Tied Knots
by mia2323
Summary: "You're in love with him, and he's in love with you, and it's like a goddamn tragedy, because you look at him and see the stars, and he looks at you and sees the sun. And you both think the other is just looking at the ground." [Modern AU. Bellarke. Banner by Ro Nordmann]
1. I

[A/N: So, after about a year of _not_ writing, I finally decided to join the fandom world again! I'm very excited to share this story with you all, and I hope you enjoy it! I'm happy to be entering this new fandom, you all seem very wonderful. This is very AU but I hope I keep the characters you know and love the same. The title is taken from a song by The Album Leaf called Tied Knots. Anyway, please do let me know what you think! **Sorry for the repost, had some beginning errors!**]

**Disclaimer: I do not own The 100.**

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><p>He dreamed he was falling.<p>

Falling down with such speed that the air in his lungs got stuck in his throat. His limbs hung still at his sides and his mouth split open without a single sound escaping.

He continued to fall and fall without ever seeing a beginning or end.

He woke up gasping. His voice stuck in his throat. A word stuck on the end of his tongue but lost along the way from his head to his lips. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he wondered if he was going to wake up the slender body next to him tangled in navy blue sheets.

He took a moment, composed himself and quickly threw his legs over the side of the bed. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep or exactly how. He remembered clutching the tan thigh behind him as he drove her into oblivion with a smirk on his face.

He rarely if ever fell asleep after going home with a woman.

He would lay with them until they fell asleep and then he would see himself out. So the fact he fell asleep caused him to feel completely vertigo.

As he stood from the bed and stretched causally in his naked form, the feeling of falling struck him. He clenched his eyes and allowed whatever was left in his body to escape. He dream bright as day in his mind.

He wondered what brought the dream on. He wondered what caused him to fall asleep.

If he had stopped drinking lagers with Monty Green when he had reached his limit (which was hard to reach at times), he would have been completely fine.

He squinted in the dimly lit room and reached for his gray t-shirt strung over the small dresser in the room before tugging up his jeans. He patted his phone in his pocket, along with his keys and his wallet before he headed for the door.

"Aren't you going to ask for my name?"

He cursed under his breath.

His fingers circled the doorknob. He didn't really care what her name was. He didn't have time for names. He didn't have time for feelings. He didn't care for them and they surely never cared for him in return.

He turned and watched her sit up in the bed. He would have smirked at the fact that she sat exposed with a grin on her face but he was annoyed for falling asleep and even more annoyed for being caught leaving.

He shrugged and turned back toward the door. He smirked when he heard her call him and asshole as he made his way out.

…

It was just about six-thirty in the morning when he got back into his car. He patted his face and shook the sleep in his eyes as he pushed the key into the ignition. It was Friday, which meant he had to work at the country club later in the day.

He didn't feel like being around rich snobs and he surely didn't feel like wearing a tux but a job was a job and he had bills to pay.

He drove toward the small convenient store five miles away from his apartment. He picked up a small coffee and a box of the donuts Octavia liked.

The thought of his sister caused a small frown to make it's way toward his face.

If there was anyone in the world who could make him feel something, it was Octavia Blake. She was tough as nails with just the right touch of softness. She kept all of his secrets and in return loved him for all his faults. However, she had been shutting him out for the past week. He wasn't entirely sure why, well that was a lie but he wasn't sure why she was still ignoring him.

It wasn't his fault that he lost his temper on her stupid boyfriend (although it kind of was).

He felt the lack of sleep in his bones as his climbed up the stairs toward his apartment. It wasn't much of anything but he was proud of himself for being able to afford it. It was barely enough room for one person but they made it work.

They always made it work. They had to work.

He jammed the key into the lock and listened for his sister. The light sound of the television caught his ear and he cleared his throat as he shut the door softly behind him. He put the box of donuts on the small makeshift table as he saw the familiar braid held up with red ribbon seated on the couch.

"I -." He coughed and cleared some of the hoarseness from his voice as he spoke to the back of her head. "I got some breakfast."

Silence.

He liked to consider himself a patient man. He patiently helped Octavia over the years. He helped her with math homework when she struggled in middle school. He helped her buy the things she always wanted but never could have growing up. He helped get her back to sleep when nigh-terrors would strike her in the middle of night. He however wasn't patient when it came to his sister ignoring him.

"Octavia." His voice came out in a soft grunt. He was irritated. He missed her skipping toward the door to greet him or when she would play her music in the bathroom while she got ready.

They grew up having to be silent. Silence was loud and he hated every ounce of it.

She turned her head toward him and he sighed at the face that looked like his own. Her green eyes focused on him for a minute before they rolled away in annoyance.

It irritated him more than he already was. The only person he really talked to was his sister and the feeling that she hated him was continuing to eat away at him. He couldn't have her hate him. They were a team. They were the perfect pair.

To keep himself from saying the wrong thing, he huffed and walked the small space of the hallway toward his bedroom. He passed out on top of his bed fully clothed. When he woke up and got ready for work, he knew he was alone.

The box of donuts was empty.

…

The thing about working for a country club is that you either pretend to be someone you're not or you stay completely and utterly silent. Invisible even.

He often chose the second option. Mostly because he couldn't stand people who would flock around their money and throw it away for a stupid dinner or a round of golf.

It was his twenty-second Friday working at The Ark. People came dressed to the nine's. As if appealing to their snobby friends was a personal success.

He tugged on the collar of his white dress shirt. They had to wear it buttoned all the way up and sometimes it felt more like a collar than anything else. He tightly smiled at the right people and stood in the dining room as still as possible.

That part wasn't hard for him. He grew up having to be quiet. Having to be still.

The part that got to him was the fact that he stood among people that treated him as if they owned him. It might have been pride or maybe even envy that caused him to hate everyone in the entire dining room as they sipped on their hundred-dollar wine.

Looking around the room was what caused him to spot her.

He wasn't sure he would have noticed her on the streets or in a stupid bar his friends dragged him to but he certainly noticed her now.

Her blonde hair was swept up in and intricate design. Her blue eyes dancing around the table with the guests that sat around her. He didn't notice them and he wasn't sure she did either. Though she smiled, it reminded him of the one he wore. It was empty and almost flat.

Her eyes lifted toward his and he quickly averted his gaze and stared down at the ground.

…

Smoking would kill him.

Octavia always told him that after he brought a new pack and he would tell her that there are far worse things he could die from besides tobacco.

He came close to death when he was younger because of his stupid father and his absent-minded mother. He came close to death when his friends dragged him to a bar last summer and he had more alcohol than ever before. He came close to death last week with Octavia's boyfriend.

He ran a hand through his hair as he brought the small stick between his teeth and took a hit. The crisp spring air struck him with warmth and a bit of a breeze. That was life in North Carolina though.

The harsh noise of the backdoor opening caused him to almost drop his cigarette.

She came running out the backdoor, slightly out of breath. She ran toward the railing and breathed shakily before mumbling something to herself. He stared at her.

He would wonder years from now that if he wasn't in this exact spot at this exact time, if he would have even met her.

She must have felt his gaze again because she lifted her head and spun it toward him. She jumped and clutched a hand toward her black dress.

She was smaller up close. Her features were more delicate. He wanted to punch himself for thinking such things. "You scared me."

He continued staring at her. Hating himself for warming up to the voice of someone who was just stating a fact. Maybe the lack of conversation with Octavia was bothering him more than he thought. "You lost, princess?"

Her eyes hardened a bit at the name he gave her. Her lips no longer in the fake smile but now set in a firm line. "No." She bit out as she crossed her arms. He noticed goose bumps pop from her skin. It might have been colder than he had thought. "I just needed-." Her words halted and she shook her head. "Why am I even telling you this?"

This angered him. He glanced at her perfect dress, one he was sure Octavia would stop and stare at but make up an excuse to why she didn't like it (even though he knew she did) in envy. This girl probably never had to work for anything a day in her life. She didn't understand the fear of late payments or checks that bounced. She probably went to some rich Ivy League and had a perfect life set out for her.

He glared at her before flicking his cigarette to the ground and turning to make his way back inside.

"Wait! I didn't -." He turned toward her to see the wind blowing through the fallen hairs around her face. "I didn't mean anything bad by what I said. I just meant that I shouldn't be throwing my problems onto anyone." The line seemed rehearsed. Like she had been told that over and over again.

He stood still.

"It's just so claustrophobic in there." She continued as she chewed on her bottom lip. "I felt like I couldn't breathe."

He didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything at all. He merely listened to her voice. How it came out like a whisper but louder than a secret.

"I just couldn't put up with it all again." She looked down at the ground before she turned her head to look out toward the golf course. The setting sun hit her hair perfectly. Making her light up like a Van Gogh painting.

"So don't."

She turned her head toward him. Looked at him as if his voice startled her even though she knew he was there. She got a small smile on her face as she shook her head. "It's not that easy."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave a weak shrug himself. He wasn't good at words really. Sure he had his moments of clarity but otherwise he felt like he just spoke to an empty room. Maybe he had. "Life isn't easy, princess."

She locked her eyes with his. "I guess you're right." She was about to open her mouth again (he knew this because he found himself staring at it) when the doors opened up beside him once again.

A boy with long sluggish hair walked out. He glanced at the crisp suit in envy before he casted his eyes toward the ground. He didn't raise them until he felt two pairs of eyes on him.

"This guy bothering you, Clarke?"

He glanced at the girl before him. Clarke. The name fit her in a way. It was elegant and simple.

Her name swirled around in his head like a mantra.

Clarke. Clarke. Clarke.

"No." Her voice was in a soft whisper once again.

He glanced at the boy beside her and narrowed his eyes as he possessively wrapped his arm around Clarke's waist. He didn't have time for this. He headed toward the doors but stopped when he heard her voice call out again asking him for his name.

"Bellamy." His voice wasn't soft. It was harsh and loud and it came out in a grunt more than anything else. He thought about the difference in their voices. His was hard and crisp. Hers was soft and velvet. Like night and day or a harsh winter compared to a spring morning.

He glanced at her once more before he turned his back. It didn't matter. He wasn't ever going to see her again.

…

Until he did, two days later.


	2. II

[A/N: Thanks for the great feedback so far! I was so excited to get all of your favorites/follows/reviews! They inspired me to write faster so I did! I also decided I'm going to go back and forth between POVs just so we get a bit more out of both! I will most likely update by next weekend! Let me know what you think! Also feel free to talk to me and be friends on Tumblr:** bellarkeymia**]

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><p>She stared at the blank canvas before her with a small smile on her face. Being at Yale the past year had been hectic. Between Organic Chemistry and Calculus, she had no time for sleeping, let along doing things she actually liked.<p>

A passion of hers was using pastels and charcoal. She mostly sketched out landscapes of places she had seen or places that occurred in her dreams. Images of foreign lands and mystical places often filled her subconscious.

However, her mind wasn't functioning. She wasn't sure if it was the lack of sleep from the finals week of hell or if her mind was running rapid because of her previous evening.

She dropped the lavender colored pastel as she heard her iPhone chime from beside her. With a slight frown she reached over and scanned the message from none other than Finn Collins. The message was simple but she knew what it was implementing.

He had been in love with her forever, even her best friend Wells joked about it.

Sure she cared for Finn but she never really saw anything beyond friendship. She didn't have time for a relationship especially with one with someone as complicated as Finn Collins. Sure, she enjoyed his outgoing nature and free spirit but something always made her uncomfortable about him. Maybe the worst part was the fact he had told her he was in love with her when he had a girlfriend.

She cringed.

She tossed aside her iPhone and sadly put away her pastels with another frown, her inspiration dwindling down by the second.

She moved toward her bed and flopped down onto her stomach. As she thought about last night and all the questions she was asked and all the stares she got, her throat closed up. Her anxiety grew and her pulse rushed.

However, her mind then moved toward the man she stumbled upon. His tanned skin and his freckled nose caused her to feel something strange in the pit of her stomach.

She wasn't sure she had ever noticed him before. In fact, she was certain she hadn't because there was no way she would have laid eyes on him and turned the other way. It couldn't be possible it couldn't – she groaned into her pillow.

"Clarke, why are you still in bed?"

She quickly turned her body around and sat up. "I'm not. I was just -." She paused and shrugged lamely.

Her mother was someone who caused men to stop and stare on the street. She never knew what that was like. Sure, boys liked her (she still cringed at the thought of Finn) but no one ever made a big deal about her before. No one ever stopped because she was so beautiful it caused them to stop functioning properly.

She watched her mother hang up the dress she had wore to The Ark on the back of her closet door. She sighed and waited.

"So, how was it?"

If there was anyone who supported her and Finn Collins it was her mother. The woman was basically a walking poster for it.

She never wanted to hurt her mother or upset her, even though her mother caused her to sometimes pull the hair from her scalp. So, she swallowed her true response and put on a smile. "It was nice."

Her mother smiled and took a seat a few inches before her on the bed. Her mother wasted no time asking about food, people and how her night ended. And though she left the real parts out, how she felt like screaming and how she barely touched her plate, watching her mom smile was enough.

She kept the image of brown eyes and freckles to herself.

…

Wells was an old soul. Just like her.

The past twelve years were filled with just the two of them. They read books and spoke about them without worry of upsetting another. They went downtown to the old theatre and watched black and white movies while stuffing their faces with popcorn. They listened to jazz music and pretended to be dancers from the roaring twenties.

But now Wells had a girlfriend. A girlfriend he had failed to mention until the day before she came home.

She wasn't jealous until she sat across from the two and watched the way Wells Jaha looked at Harper Jenkins like she was the most magnificent thing in the world. His eyes lit up when she laughed and his smiled formed a shape she never saw before when he locked eyes with the girl beside him.

She couldn't take her eyes off the two of them. She couldn't shake the wave of envy and the feeling of loss.

She learned that Wells met Harper in their psychology class this past spring semester. In his own words, "She looked at me and I went mental." She didn't understand it but Harper laughed and laughed while Wells once again got the weird look on his face.

She wasn't used to being on the outside when it came to Wells Jaha. She was entirely sure what she was expecting to begin with. Wells went to the University of North Carolina while she went to Yale. The six hundred some miles seemed like nothing at first. They sent texts and videos and Skyped every weekend.

She should have noticed something was wrong when all of that slowly stopped in March but she was too busy herself to even notice the day of the week.

"So, Clarke." She turned her head toward the smiling brunette. The smiling was making her feel sick to her stomach. "Anything juicy you have about this one?"

She casted her eyes onto her best friend who's eyes grew wide. She had plenty of information on Wells. She watched him throw up in sixth grade because Todd Travers put applesauce in chocolate milk. Well, she threw up too but that wasn't the point. She witnessed him pee his pants in ninth grade because of an SNL skit. She knew what his first concert was. She knew he hated guitar over piano. She knew his favorite book was _Atlas Shrugged_.

However, she didn't know he was changing his major to psychology until twenty minutes ago. She didn't know he started to attend slam poetry readings and she surely didn't know he drank. A lot apparently.

She knew everything about the _old _Wells. She didn't know a single thing about the _new_, college Wells.

So when Harper looked at her with wide green eyes, she shrugged and threw a fry in Wells direction. "I'm sure you know everything."

"Come on, there has to be something."

She widened her eyes again and gave Wells a look that he only mirrored. At least he knew her despite the fact she felt like he was growing more and more apart from her as the minutes ticked by.

She turned her eyes back toward Harper. "He hates hiking." She almost smiled at the memory.

Harper made a strange face before glancing at Wells. Wells turned his attention back toward her and sat up. "I wouldn't say hate, Clarke. I like hiking just fine." He glanced toward Harper before continuing. "Harper took me hiking for spring break in Hocking Hills. It was great. You would have loved it."

She wasn't sure if she kept her face neutral but she must of because the pair before her was smiling widely back at each other in remembrance or ignoring her completely.

Wells hated hiking. He hated it all the times she begged and begged him to do it.

She faked a grin and nodded her head anyway.

…

If she had to hear _Habits_ by _Tove Lo_ one more time, she was going to pass out. She held tightly to her red cup as she watched Harper and Wells dance together in someone's living room.

She rolled her eyes. After an uncomfortable dinner, Harper had insisted they go to a party right down the road. She wanted to argue that "right down the road" ended up being a twenty-some minute drive to the other side of town.

She turned her head and walked back into the less crowded kitchen. The heat was sticking to her skin and causing her red cardigan to cling to her.

She picked up a clear jar up from the counter and brought it toward her nose. The smell even caused her insides to burn.

"I wouldn't touch the stuff if I were you." She turned her head to watch a brunette walk into the kitchen. The green eyed girl smirked as she took a sip from her own beer. "Monty makes the strongest Moonshine within a fifty mile radius."

She tried to find in her brain where she met the girl before. She looked familiar. From her sleek cheekbones to her freckled covered nose all the way to her stance.

"I'm Octavia by the way."

She took the outstretched hand in her own and shook it quickly. "Clarke."

The brunette nodded with a grin. "Like the explorer?"

She found herself grinning a bit despite the initial annoyance. She casted her glance back toward the living room. Wells and Harper were swaying and kissing.

"Ex-boyfriend?"

She turned her head back toward Octavia who was opening another beer. She glanced down at the water cup in her hands and thought about her past choices. She never drank. She never really saw the point. Wells did tell her to at least carry around a red solo cup. She wasn't sure why she did what he wanted when he barely talked to her besides the few minutes at the restaurant.

He didn't ask about Yale. He didn't ask if she was lonely and sad. He didn't ask anything.

She turned her attention back toward Octavia. "Oh, no." She clutched the cup. "We're best friends."

Octavia made a face. "If that's your story."

"It is." It annoyed her that everyone implied that their friendship was more than what it was. She turned the conversation away from her. This was the first person she was actually talking to in the past half-hour. "So, do you live around here?"

Octavia nodded as she took another sip of her beer. "Three blocks down. I'm guessing you're not." She made a face and Octavia laughed. "It's not a bad thing. The cardigan gave you away."

She glanced at her red cardigan and her khaki capris to Octavia's mid-thigh black skirt and skintight tank top. She felt nervous. She felt like the room was closing in around her. She didn't belong here.

She didn't do parties like this. She stayed alone in her room with a book and her pastels.

She dropped her cup onto the counter and mumbled something to Octavia as she walked past the mass amounts of bodies in the living room. She didn't bother asking Wells to leave because Wells liked hiking and she didn't know.

She shook her head as she headed onto the front lawn. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong here. She – was falling onto the ground. She closed her eyes and prepared for the impact but there wasn't any. She opened her eyes and was slowly tilted upright by a strong pair of arms and a dark set of brown eyes.

Bellamy.

She didn't think she would ever see him again. But here she was two days later staring right at him.

He was still clutching a part of her cardigan and staring at her in a weird way. Like he almost can't believe she's there either.

His skin looks darker, like he spent the entire day in the sun. He's wearing a navy blue shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looks so much more comfortable than he did in the tux back at The Ark. His hair is more disheveled. It suits him. It all suits him.

He drops her arm like he's been burnt. "You're on the wrong side of town, princess."

She glares at the same nickname he used before. He isn't smirking at her but he is. It doesn't make sense and causes her brain to grow fuzzy despite her sober state. Her eyes narrow. "Who are you to tell me where I can and can't be?"

He shakes his head with a weird look in his eyes. "A girl like you shouldn't be in a place like this."

The words tossed and turned in her head. She was sick and tired of people asking and telling her how she should and shouldn't feel. She was sick of Finn Collins texting her everyday that they needed to talk. She was sick of the comments her mother made about what she did and didn't do. She was sick of the fact that her best friend Wells Jaha has yet to notice she left the party.

She huffed under her breath and stuffed her hands into her cardigan as she walked around Bellamy. She didn't need another person adding to the list.

She made it five feet before she felt a tug on the back of her cardigan.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She made a face. "You said I shouldn't be a place like this." She gestured around before pointing forward. "So I'm leaving." She turned back around only to get pulled back.

"You're not seriously walking are you?"

She glanced at his brown eyes once more. His eyebrows were drawn together, not exactly in concern but not nothing either. "Trying to." She crossed her arms and watched his face drop whatever emotion it was to straight annoyance.

"Where's your boyfriend?" She glared. "Okay, did you not drive?" She glared harder. He cursed again and shook his head. He reached for her arm and pulled her by the cardigan.

"What do you think you're doing!"

He huffed and stopped her in front of a beat-up Buick. "What does it look like, princess? Get in." He swore again before making his way toward the driver's side. He opened his door and rolled his eyes when he saw she hadn't moved. "Today."

"I don't even know you."

The look he had on his face the other night returned. Every feature hardened and his jaw moved in irritation. "It's a safer in this car than wherever you think you're walking to."

She chewed on her lip. She noticed he didn't defend himself or claim to be a nice guy. But he was being a nice guy. She nodded and opened up the passenger door before quickly climbing in.

She watched him as he quickly sat down and put the key into the ignition. If she wasn't staring so intently at him she would have missed the look of embarrassment that washed upon his face when his car took an extra second to start up. Music started to blare into her ears.

"Where do you live?"

She dramatically yelled her address over the music and he nodded his head in understanding. She tucked her hands under her thighs and listened to him tap against the wheel. She wasn't sure what to say to him. She was feeling a lot of things that didn't make sense to her. She felt anger, gratefulness, stress, freedom and soothing all at once. It was a strange feeling to have. One she wasn't even sure she wanted.

Her iPhone vibrated in her pocket. She frowned when she saw the text wasn't from Wells. She sighed and looked back out the window.

After nine loud songs that she never even heard of, Bellamy pulled up in front of her house. She glanced at the house and the bright red door. Bellamy was silent. She turned her head and looked at this stranger up close.

"Nice house."

She nodded and unbuckled her seat belt. "Thanks." She reached for the door handle but paused. She swallowed her pride and let out a breath. "Thank you for driving me. It -." She looked down at her lap before looking back up at his emotionless face. "Just thank you, Bellamy."

He nodded and looked away. She got out of the car without another word.

She heard him drive away after she shut the front door behind her.


	3. III

[A/N: You guys are so great! All your feedback makes my day and makes me write faster! I have lifted the rating to M for language and future themes (hello smut). I will always warn you of future scenes that involve that kind of content, so if you're not into that, you will know in advance! This chapter has some language and **trigging scene** if you suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. Let me know what you think of this chapter, I love hearing from you. Also, come and find me on Tumblr:** bellarkeymia **!]

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><p>His car smelled vaguely of lavender as he parked back in front of Monty's. He couldn't tell if he liked or hated the smell.<p>

The smell stayed with him as he entered the small house, grabbed a beer and danced with some girl Monty claimed was "super fine and legal". He would have been annoyed but he didn't want to think and he didn't want to care.

He had a shitty day at work. For one, he had to work at the auto-shop and barely had time to make it to his shift at The Ark. And when he did get to work, he realized he had forgotten his dress shoes at home. He also didn't realize half of his face was covered in grease until after his shift.

All he wanted was to have a good night.

A night where he could forget about everything. Forget that he had to the shittiest day. Forget that his sister was ignoring him. Forget like he was barely making this month's rent, even with two full-time jobs.

Then she appeared, as if out of nowhere.

He spotted her once he got out of his car. A sad look filled her features and he was almost going to just walk right by her until she started to fall toward the ground. It was weird how he reacted because he reacted without thinking about it. He reached out his arms and there they stood, wrapped up in another like a vine.

She was stubborn and it annoyed him. Especially because she thought she could prance around in his neck of the woods like nothing would happen to her (he wouldn't admit that the thought made him feel a bit concerned because that would be stupid).

So, he drove her home and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel self-conscious in his old piece of shit Buick. (And he would be lying if he said he didn't stare at her backside when she walked up to her house.)

Fuck it. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

He shook his head at his thoughts and started to smirk when he felt the brunette in front of him rub against him to the beat. It was Sunday night, so that meant he didn't have to work anywhere tomorrow. Monday was his day off and he knew exactly how he wanted to start it.

"Bellamy." He bit his lip and turned his head to see Jasper Jordan standing a few feet away from him. The boy was scrawny as hell but he made up for it. Jasper had his back plenty of times and although he appreciated it, it only served to annoy him now. "It's –ugh- it's Octavia."

He dropped his hands from the slim waist they were gripping and he followed Jasper between the moving bodies.

The music was loud but he couldn't hear a single thing. He felt the vibrations in his chest and he felt the lights pounding on his skin.

When it came to Octavia, he dropped everything. He dropped school, he dropped work, he dropped friends and he dropped girls. Everything was dropped because nothing mattered without her.

His pulse grew as he headed toward the small hallway that lead toward the bedrooms. His skin was on fire.

Thoughts rushed into his brain.

He walked into the small bedroom and saw his sister, his baby sister, huddled in a corner clutching her ears and rocking. She looked like a small fallen fawn. His pulse ignited and he pushed past Jasper to get to her. Get to her. Get to her. Get to her.

He tried to pull on her arms but they wouldn't budge. She was clutching her ears so tightly and he didn't want to hurt her or have her hurt herself. The thought made him sick.

As he pressed his forehead lightly to hers, he hummed a song he always did when she would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Images of their childhood haunted her. They haunted him but he wouldn't let that show. He had to be the strong one. He had to be the one to hold them together.

It was as if time had stopped. As he continued to hum, her hands slowly fell from her ears. He saw the small stains of blood on her fingernails and clutched them loosely but firm between his own. "Talk to me." It came out in a whisper, like it always did. He felt like he was eight years old again, whispering in the dark to his four-year-old sister.

It was then that he heard the shuffling of another pair of feet. He lifted up his head and saw his sister's stupid boyfriend standing on the side of the bed with a strange look on his face. He would have been fine if the stupid douchebag had kept his mouth shut.

"Fucking freak."

He dropped Octavia's hands slowly.

It was a strange feeling for all of his senses coming in at once. He could vividly see Atom Myers before him. He could hear Jasper telling him to get out. He could feel Octavia pull lightly on his shoulder. He could smell lavenders and he could taste blood.

The room was in slow motion again. It was like he was being brought back to life. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. His pulse was vibrating and his skin was tingling as his fist connected with Atom's jaw. (It was strange to think that they were almost in this same position last week.)

He felt his back thrown against the floor but he reacted quickly because that's how he was raised.

His mouth was bleeding but he quickly jabbed his fist into Atom's neck. It was as if he was a wild animal set loose.

He felt Atom's weight being lifted off of him and another pair of arms string around him. His breathing was coming out in harsh pants and his adrenaline was swimming around in his veins.

It took him a minute before he shrugged Monty off. He saw Atom's face, covered in blood and a few bruises he was sure matched his own.

With a strangled pant for air, he spit out a chunk of blood before stepping closer to Atom. "You come near her again and I will fucking kill you." No one said a word. He watched someone as scrawny as Jasper pull someone as bulky and rigid as Atom out of the small bedroom.

He took a deep breath before he headed toward Octavia, offer her his hand and pull her to her feet.

Taking her away from it all.

…

They were sitting in a run down diner a block from their apartment around one in the morning. He tried not to think about the bruise on his face. It ached and he saw Octavia wince every time she looked at him.

She looked so much younger across from him. His old leather jacket wrapper around her shoulders, making her look smaller than usual. Her hair falling around her shoulders like it did when she was younger. He thought about an eleven year old Octavia who cried because she couldn't have nice things like all the other girls had. He imagined an even younger Octavia begging and asking him why their parents didn't want her.

She suffered from panic attacks. She had since she was little and it always caused him to feel helpless. Small rooms caused her to grow claustrophobic which spurred a panic attack. Large amount of stress caused her to have a panic attack.

He should have just sucked it up and apologized for being an asshole to the boy he liked. He could have saved her from all this suffering.

It ate away at him.

"I'm sorry." She said softly as she poured syrup over her waffles. She liked her waffles to be swimming in it. "I'm just -." She paused. "I'm sure you didn't want to deal with that."

This stunned him. His eyes grew wide and he sat up straighter. "Don't apologize to me. Ever. Especially for who you are, alright?" He stared directly at her and watched her nod. Her green eyes were rimmed in red. "I would do anything for you, Octavia."

"I know." Her voice was soft adding to how young she looked. "It's just you do so much for me and I was so awful to you for someone who-." She shook her head and swallowed a cry in her throat. "Someone who didn't even care about me."

He reached out to grab her hand. Her fingernails were still stained red. "We're in this together, O." He tried to smile but he was certain it came out as strained as it felt.

For as long as he remembered, it was just the two of them. He had raised his little sister. He helped her with homework, walked her to school, sewed her Girl Scout costumers and made sure she never went to sleep hungry. He put all of her needs before his own. Some nights he never ate. Some nights he never got around to his own homework. Sometimes it took him three years to buy a new shirt.

Their father bailed when he was no older than eleven and his mother was so stricken over the loss, she lived as if she didn't have children at home. And by the time he was almost sixteen, she left.

He wasn't going to pity himself. He had a rough start at life but he was still here and Octavia was still here.

He watched her eat her waffle. It was programmed in him to always make sure she ate before he had. He smiled at her briefly before glancing down at his own waffle. He wasn't hungry. He was tired and his bones ached. He wanted to get them home and sleep knowing his sister was talking to him again. To be able to go to sleep knowing his sister was safe.

"Bell." He glanced up at her. There was syrup stuck to her lip and her green eyes were bright. "You're a good guy."

He stared at her, even after she turned her attention back toward her food.

If only he believed that.

…

Two days later, he was wiping the sweat from his brow as he watched Jasper toss at salad at The Ark. He owed it to his friend for getting him a job but he hated that while he had to go out and deal with rich snobs, Jasper got to hide in the kitchen making salads.

It was an even hotter day than most so the kitchen was stifling. His white collar was sticking to his neck and he couldn't wait for the next four hours to pass by.

"How's O?" Jasper asked as he cut softly into a rich red tomato. He hated tomatoes.

He sighed and thought about his sister. After they finished at the diner, they drove home and camped out in the living room without a word. He spent the entire day lying on the couch watching stupid sitcoms with Octavia. Though it annoyed him, being around his sister and laughing with her, caused the pain in his chest to lessen. He wished he could say the same about the bruise on his face.

"She's fine." He mumbled as he glanced down at his bruised knuckles. "Sorry about what happened, man."

Jasper shook his head. "I would have been pissed if you didn't do anything." Jasper glanced up at him. "But knowing you that would be unlikely."

He smirked. He was always the one who got into trouble. He always defended the things he cared about. It was like it was written in his bones and embedded into his blood. It was entirely who he was.

"Well, that's not something you see everyday."

He glanced up at Jasper but Jasper was looking away toward the kitchen doors. He turned his head and saw her standing there. Her hair was braided and hanging over her shoulder. She wore a navy blue dress with pearls on her wrists. She clutched a small white bag and glanced around the kitchen anxiously with her teeth sunken into her bottom lip.

He quickly walked away from Jasper and headed toward her. "You have a fine way of being in places you shouldn't." He crossed his arms across his chest. "Lost again, princess?"

Her eyes snapped onto him and he saw a sense of relief. She stared at the bruise on his face before looking down at the ground. "I'm-um-actually looking for you." She glanced at the bag in her hands before thrusting it into him.

He dropped his arms and took the bag from her (not that he wanted too but she basically threw it at him). He sensed the brief smell of lavender again. "What's this?"

She glanced around the kitchen once more before focusing back onto his face. He watched her eyes trace over the darkened bruise that covered his skin. If he ever regretted hitting Atom Myers it would be for the split second right now. "Just um." She fidgeted. "Just a thank you. So, thank you." She mumbled before spinning around and heading back out the kitchen doors.

He glanced behind him to see Jasper giving him a curious look and then back toward the small bag in his hands. He frowned before following her out the doors. "Clarke."

She was almost to the main dining room before she spun around on her heels. Her eyes were wide at the use of her real name. It had surprised him at how easily it rolled off his tongue. It surprised him even more how good it felt. "Yes?"

He shook his head at his thoughts before thrusting the bag back into her hands. "I don't need your charity."

Her eyes grew wide before they narrowed. "That's not what this is." She stood up straighter and looked at him in the eye. "It's a thank you." She spoke slowly as if she was speaking to a five year old. She threw him the bag once more.

"Well I don't-."

She cut him off. "Bellamy. Just take it, alright? It's me saying thank you for driving me home." She cleared her throat and her voice was soft again. "Please just, take it."

He nodded and stared at her before looking down toward the bag. He reached into it and pulled out a leather box. He glanced up at her and watched her face grow red. He quickly unlatched the box and came face to face with a clean leather watch. His hands grew clammy. "I can't accept this."

"Yes you can." She hesitated for a moment before she took a step toward him and pointed to the thin watch hanging by a thread around his wrist. "I noticed it had a crack in it." It had been cracked for quite some time but he never had the spare money to replace it. "It's really not that big of a deal."

"Clarke."

"Bellamy." She kept a straight face for a few seconds before it broke out into a small genuine smile. It was a beautiful smile. She looked like something that wasn't even from this world. It was breathtaking.

He glanced back down at the watch before turning his head and glancing up at her. No one besides Octavia gave him a gift before. It struck him in a strange way. "Thank you."

She shrugged, still with a smile on her face before turning back around and leaving him there with a watch.

And a smile of his own.


	4. IV

[A/N: You guys are so great! Thanks for your feedback! This chapter is a bit longer than most, so I hope you enjoy that! I won't be able to update as fast as I have been because good 'ole college is starting Monday! But I will update when I can, hopefully with longer chapters than this one too! - Mia :)]

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><p>"So, Clarke. How's Yale?"<p>

She dropped her fork from its journey toward her mouth as she turned her attention toward Henry Collins. She sat up straighter and glanced at her mother before turning her attention back toward the awaiting gray eyes before her. "It's pretty good. Cold."

The table laughed in response. Not the kind that made your insides inflate with warmth but the kind that made you feel hollow and empty.

"Clarke made the Dean's List." Her mother said with a wide smile. She tried to muster up her own smile but it failed. Not that it really mattered to these people. Every Tuesday she would have brunch with her mother and the Collins family at The Ark (it was just her luck that Finn Collin's father was her mother's close friend). And even though she had been gone for almost a year, her summer break was quickly falling back into routine.

Henry nodded his head with a large smile. "And I hear that you're following in your mother's footsteps."

She stared at him blankly.

Her mother cleared her throat and jabbed her softly in the side. "Majoring in Pre-Med, Clarke."

Her eyes grew wide. Sure, she took the prerequisites for the medical career path, but she hadn't fully confirmed that she was going in that direction. Helping people had always been a passion of hers but she hadn't officially signed off her life for the next eight years.

She wondered if her mother ever heard her when she talked. She wondered if anyone heard her when she talked.

She nodded her head anyway because she didn't want to add to anything. The feeling of claustrophobia was starting to overwhelm her again, just like it had when she had come to dinner with Finn and a few of his friends last Friday.

"What do you think you want to specialize in, Clarke?"

She hadn't thought about that much either. She just wanted to help people and care for them. She started to muster up something but her mother cut in, like usual.

"General surgery." Her mother said proudly as she cut into her frittata.

The table started another conversation and she felt it all fade away. She stared at her water glass as she listened to her mother laugh about Finn's stories from NYU and Caroline Collins mishap of trying to understand the New York Subway system.

She only looked up when the dining room door opened and Bellamy appeared in his black tux.

She wondered what caused the large bruise on his face. It had to have happened after he had dropped her off.

She watched as he filled up another table's water glasses with such ease. He moved between seats and no one looked at him or thanked him for doing so.

It was as if he wasn't even there.

How could they have not noticed him? Besides the harsh bruise on his face, he was extraordinary. His dark complexion looked so well against the darkness of his tux jacket. His hair was ruffled slightly but not in a way that looked lazy. What got to her most was his dimpled chin.

She watched his sleeve get pushed back as he refilled another water glass. She sat up straighter when she saw the watch she had given him sparkle in her direction. The dark leather and crisp white face of it staring back at her.

She wasn't sure what even came over her when she found the watch in her father's closed off office. It was a watch he hardly wore, unlike the one she had in her own bedroom. It was still in a gift-wrapped box with a small handwritten note from Thelonious Jaha.

She thought about the quiet ride back to her house with Bellamy and how the watch he had around his left wrist was so badly cracked and falling apart at the seams.

She didn't hesitate as she threw the watch into the small gift bag. Her hands shook as she handed it over and her heart ticked loudly in her chest when he tried to give it back.

But he had taken it and he was wearing it around his tanned wrist. She watched it return to underneath his sleeve as he stood up and slowly walked toward her table. She was almost certain she froze in place.

"Clarke?"

She spun her head toward Finn's questioning glare. "Sorry, what?"

She watched his lips move but she didn't hear a sound. Her heart was racing as Bellamy reached beside her for her water glass. She glanced at him and their eyes locked. She wanted to say something but she knew that he wouldn't respond. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable but she ached to hear his voice.

He locked his eyes on her for another quick second before turning away, his lips forming something resembling a smile.

Her mother jabbed her again. She turned her attention back toward her mother only to find her mother staring disapprovingly at Bellamy as he made his way around the table before turning her attention back onto her. "Finn asked you a question, Clarke."

Her cheeks reddened as she turned back toward Finn. "Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."

Finn's eyes were locked on Bellamy for a moment before turning to her, a strange look on his face. She chose to ignore it. "I just wondered if you wanted to go to the Unity Day banquet with me on Thursday."

She felt her throat closing up. Like it usually did when Finn placed her in situations like this one. His parents stared at her in excitement. Her mother was seconds away from jabbing her again.

Bellamy was walking away from her table.

She mustered up a smile despite the fact that all she wanted to do was run away. "Sure."

…

Even though she had a car, she preferred walking.

Her house was a mile or two from town but that didn't really stop her. She enjoyed the smell of the fresh spring air with a hint of salt from the ocean. That was definitely another thing she missed while she was at Yale.

She walked toward a small boutique and smiled at the window display before entering. An Indie song swam around her head as she opened the door. The boutique was one she always walked by but never went inside. Mostly because she shopped with her mother and her mother hated small town shopping. She however, loved it.

The feeling of soft silk caused her to smile. She held up a few dresses toward her thin frame but grimaced when she came to holding them up toward a mirror. She had lost some weight at school. Mostly because of stress and she guessed from the isolation she placed around herself.

She frowned.

"Griffin."

She lowered a pale blue dress and turned to face Raven Reyes.

She nearly fainted at the sight of the slim brunette. The last time she had run into Raven was before she left for college last summer. The conversation was basically Raven begging her to leave her boyfriend alone. She had tried to get Raven to understand that she didn't want Finn, not that way but Raven didn't believe her and quickly turned her emotion into action.

She was pretty sure her cheek held the imprint of her hand for weeks.

"Hey." She fished out lamely as she quietly placed the dress back onto the rack. She tugged hard on her bag strap. "Ho-."

"Look." Raven interrupted as she shook her head, almost as if she was stopping herself from saying anything at all. "Finn and I are done so he's officially yours."

She wanted to shout that he wasn't hers but it would have been like talking to an empty room (something she did a lot, anyway). She glanced back at the dress rack, her throat in her stomach. When she glanced back, she saw Raven waiting for her to say something.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before she answered. "We're – we." Her frown deepened. "It's not like that." At least she tried.

Raven rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She pulled her sunglasses out and placed them onto her face. "He told me you're going with him to the banquet." Raven pointed at a dark purple dress. "You'd look good in that."

She turned her head slightly and pulled out a dark purple dress. It was modest enough for her taste but a bit daring due to the low cut of the back. She went to turn to Raven but the brunette was already making her way out of the store.

She let out a breath and turned back toward the dress. It really was beautiful but she knew she could never wear a dress like this. She held it up against herself in the small mirror and turned from side to side with a sad smile.

"We have a dressing room if you'd like to try it on." She turned her head to see the bright green eyes of the familiar face. The recognition washed over the brunette's face as well. "Cardigan girl!"

She felt her cheeks redden as she glanced down at her light blue cardigan she was wearing before looking up. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh at herself and the situation. "Octavia, right?"

"Right." The perky brunette nodded with a smile as she walked closer. Octavia gently took the dress from her and held it up herself. "Beautiful color. Want to try it on?"

"Oh, okay." She mumbled as she followed an almost skipping Octavia toward the small makeshift dressing room (the kind that was just closed off by a few hanging drapes).

Octavia hung up the dress before smiling brightly at her. "Let me know if you need anything else."

She nodded her head and stepped into the small space. She took a small breath as she unbuttoned her cardigan and folded it onto the bench against the wall. She continued to undress and took a deep breath as she took the dress off the hanger. Quickly stepping into it with her eyes closed.

She counted in her head before opening them and staring at her reflection. Her pale skin seemed to shine against the dark purple but not in a bad way. Despite her frizzy blonde hair and small frame, she looked alright. She felt her heart quickly speed up when her eyes focused on the large scar and burn marks on her left forearm.

She brought a hesitant hand toward the raised skin that went from the inside of her armpit to her elbow. It matched the one flowing down her ribs to the top of her left thigh. She turned in the mirror and frowned when the reddened flesh peeked briefly from the dress.

"How are we doing? I brought a few-" Octavia's voice cut short as she opened the drape and locked eyes with her in the mirror.

She quickly crossed her arms and glanced down at the ground. "Do you have something with sleeves?"

It took her moment before she allowed herself to glance up and at Octavia. The brunette glanced at the ground and cleared her throat before smiling at her. It was the kind of smile she had received years ago. She hated that smile.

"Of course. Hold on." Octavia pointed toward the dress rack and turned around, closing the drape after her.

She stared at herself in the mirror once again. Tears welding in her eyes. She wouldn't allow herself to let them fall. She took a deep breath and quickly took off the dress, hanging the delicate material back onto the hanger.

Images flashed before her eyes. Screams flooded her ears. She couldn't stay here.

She dressed quickly and found comfort in her jean capris and cardigan once again. She pushed open the drape just as Octavia came toward her with dresses piled in her arms. She forgot she asked for a different kind of dress.

She offered a lame attempt of a smile before shrugging and heading toward the door. Her hands shook at her sides.

"Clarke."

She froze in place. She turned her head before she turned her body.

Octavia stood behind her, with the dresses still in her arms and an understanding smile on her face. Octavia took a breath and turned back toward the small dressing room, nodding toward the hanging purple dress she had left there. "Whenever you're ready, that will be ready too."

She almost cried there, at the understanding between one human being to another but she didn't. She nodded her head and stayed still for a moment before turning around and leaving.

…

She dropped onto the black mat and groaned.

She felt pain all over. Her bones ached. Her organs ached. Her skin wet with sweat.

She had forgotten what it was like to workout with Wells. The boy who hated hiking (yet claimed to love it now) could seriously kick her ass at cycling.

She almost pitted herself for agreeing so happily to meet her best friend at six o'clock in the morning for a cycling class. She could barely keep up within the first five minutes of the workout. And of course over the span of an hour, Wells didn't even break a sweat.

She groaned when she heard Wells laugh above her. She groaned louder and smiled as his laugh filled her being.

"Alright, give me your legs."

She softly flipped onto her back and lifted her legs into the air. Wells held her feet between his hands and slowly started to push them toward her. It burned but she wasn't going to complain. "Why did I agree to this torture?"

Wells smirked as he continued to press on her feet. "Because your scrawny ass could use it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Funny."

Wells smirk deepened as he slowly retracted her legs and let them drop toward the ground. He let out a loud breath before flopping down next to her. "That kind of kicked my ass."

She turned her head. "You're joking." She sat up and leaned against her elbows, looking down at him as he stretched his legs. "You didn't even fall out of breath."

"Yeah, that's true. I just didn't want you to feel bad."

She quickly slapped his arm and shook her head with a smile on her face. He was teasing her but she knew his words were a bit true. Even though he did fall away from her a bit this past year, he always had her feelings at heart.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Him stretching. Her aching.

She missed this. She missed the comfort of lying next to her best friend and having no judgments or questions. Wells knew everything about her. She didn't need to say anything because he already knew. He knew she was pissed about meeting his girlfriend the way she had. He knew she was pissed about him letting her leave the party. He knew all of that and he apologized with pizza and junior mints (the quickest way to her heart basically) the next day.

She didn't have to worry about her flaws because Wells accepted them, just as she accepted his.

"So, I heard you're going to the banquet with Finn."

She rolled her eyes and thought about Raven. She thought about the purple dress. "Apparently everyone has."

Wells let out another laugh before turning on his side and facing her. She did the same. "Your mom?"

She nodded her head. "He also asked me in front of everyone so I couldn't really say no." Wells scrunched up his nose and made a face. "Tell me about it."

She sighed before letting out another groan and standing up. She jumped a few times before she offered her hand toward Wells. He accepted it with a smile and quickly stood up. She pulled her Under Armour long sleeve away from her chest to cool down as they walked out of the room. "Coffee? On you?"

Wells shook his head but smiled anyway. "Lead the way, Griffin."

…

She ended up wearing an olive colored wrap dress that covered her arms and ended right below her knees to the Unity Day banquet.

She also was currently hiding from her date.

The thing she liked the best about The Ark was the massive amounts of rooms it had. She would weave herself in and out of them as the time passed. Wells always laughed when he saw her running room to room but other than that, she mingled with a few people from high school and her mother's friends and colleagues.

She had yet to see Bellamy.

She was shoving a stuffed mushroom into her mouth when Finn finally caught up to her. "You're quite hard to find."

She closed her eyes tightly before she spun around and faced him. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing a tux that probably cost a semesters worth of pay at Yale. She swallowed the food in her mouth and shrugged. "Sorry I was talking to people about school." Okay, not totally a lie.

Finn smiled down at her and offered her his hand. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

She wanted to scream no but instead she nodded, keeping her hands at her sides. She weaved in and out of the people and ignored the questioning look on Wells face as she followed Finn upstairs toward the large deck above. The same deck he confessed his love for her on.

She tried not to visibly cringe.

She smiled tightly as she stepped onto the wooden deck. She didn't know what to say so she waited.

"You look beautiful, Clarke."

She clutched her arms around herself and mumbled a thank you as she overlooked the golf course. She didn't like being placed in situations like this. Especially one's where she knew she would have to let someone down. Despite her feelings (or lack of feelings), she cared for Finn in a way.

She glanced back at Finn and watched him drag his hand through his hair, a sign he was clearly frustrated. She lowered her arms and looked at him. "Finn, thank you for asking me to come tonight but I just don't feel the same way that you do."

He looked pained. "Clarke, don't say that."

She stared at him before she shrugged helplessly. "It's how I feel."

He shook his head like a mad man. "Is it because of the whole Raven thing? I know I handled that wrong but I couldn't deny what I was feeling."

She looked at him and felt her throat closing up. "Finn, I just-."

"Just what, Clarke?" His voice was louder and instead of the look of pain, he sported the look of agitation. "You didn't even give me a chance!"

She felt scared for a moment but that quickly faded away. She shook her head and started to turn away, only to feel a strong grip on her upper-arm. The lack of muscle in her arm caused her to cry out from the grip. She could feel the scar on her arm pulse as he quickly let go.

"Clarke, I'm sorry." Finn mumbled quickly as he brought his hand up to his hair again. "I didn't think. I didn-."

Tears welded in her eyes from the pain. She shook her head and clutched her arm tightly to her chest. She tried to mumble out something but she couldn't.

She turned around quickly and made her way back downstairs, clutching her arm toward her chest. The loud music blared in her ears and caused her to move quicker between the bodies of people. She just needed to leave. She needed to be alone in her room. She felt the room closing in on her again.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she ran into someone. She tried to apologize but her voice was caught in her throat. Mostly due to the fact that she was in so much pain and her head was a mess. However, the dark eyes focused on her intently and the feeling of familiarity flooded her.

She paused. He stared at her.

He looked at her and took in the look on her face. His jaw tightened as he looked around, she wasn't sure what he was looking for.

"Come with me."

She didn't hesitate.

…

They were at some diner she never heard of.

He had lead her through the kitchen at The Ark and spoke a few words to a boy making salads before gesturing for her to follow him out. They didn't speak as they got into his Buick. He softly asked her if she was hungry and if she hadn't been so bewildered she would have done something besides nod her head.

He drove a few minutes across town before parking in front of the small diner and leading them to where they were currently sitting.

He had left his tux jacket in the car but still wore his white dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and she found herself staring at his arms before focusing on the watch wrapped around his wrist.

She folded her hands into her lap.

"I know it's nothing fancy." If he was embarrassed, it didn't show. "But they have the best waffles here." He smiled at her.

She sat up in her seat and looked over the menu before her with a smile tugging on her lips. She glanced over the menu but when the time came to order, she ordered a chocolate-chip waffle and orange juice. She wanted to tell him that breakfast for dinner was one of her favorite things but she didn't.

She chewed on her lip as she watched him across from her. "So, what's your favorite color?"

He looked at her for a moment before laying his forearms onto the table. "Man, you really ask the deep stuff." She smiled, he grinned even more. "Black, I guess." He started playing with the salt and pepper shakers as he asked her what hers was.

She hadn't really thought about it. She thought about how the sky looked right before twilight. She thought about Christmas lights. She thought about her dad's eyes. "Green."

He nodded in approval as he slid the salt and pepper shakers back into place. "Good color."

They fell into silence again after that. The kind of silence that her and Wells fell into. The kind of silence that didn't need an explanation. He would look at her, she would feel her cheeks redden and then he would smile.

It was all very different for her. The way she felt. The way she didn't need to explain herself. The way it was completely comfortable. Especially with someone she barely knew.

Their waffles came out quickly and they ate in silence and she found it to be the best meal she had since she was home.

The only time they spoke was when she tried to pay for her waffle; he had given her a deep look before pushing his card in their waitress's direction. She would have fought it harder but she was tired and her arm hurt.

When they reached his Buick, he opened the passenger car door for her before going over to his side. He drove to her house without asking for the address and parked in the same place he had before.

She hadn't even checked her phone. She was sure there were messages and missed calls from her mother and Finn. Probably even Wells. She tried not to think about it as she turned in her seat to face him.

His wrist was hanging lightly on the steering wheel and his body was turned toward hers.

She felt pulled to him in a way she couldn't explain. It was like she was being drawn out from her own body and into his. She looked down at her lap. "Thank you for this. You didn't have too."

She glanced at him and watched him look at her before shrugging, a brief smile on his face. "It's me thanking you for the watch." Her eyes flashed to the watch on his wrist. Despite his words and his light tone, she knew it was more than that. He knew it was more than that.

She reached for the door handle but froze when he called out to her softly. She spun toward him and watched a nervous look cross his face. "What is it?"

He let out a breath and looked at her sheepishly "Me and my sister are throwing this Anti-Unity Day party." He cleared his throat, causing his voice to get a bit deeper. "You should come, I mean if you want."

"Um-uh sure." Her voice came out in a soft squeak.

He nodded his head, his face becoming neutral. "I can pick you up tomorrow around nine. I get off work then."

"Do I need to bring anything? Like a snack or drink mixer?"

He smirked and shook his head. "You don't need to bring anything, princess."

And despite her annoyance of the nickname, she smiled. She thanked him once more before she climbed out of the car and headed toward her house. Like before, she didn't hear him leave until the door closed softly behind her. 


	5. V

[A/N: You guys are so amazing! Honestly all of your reviews/favorites/follows make my day! Reading them all makes my heart swarm. College is already crazy busy but I managed to bust out a chapter! I hope you enjoy it, I know I enjoyed writing it. Also we got renewed for another season!? I'm SO pumped and crossing my fingers for Bellarke! This chapter has some language! I'll try to update as soon as I can! - Mia]

**Music Inspired: The Writer / Ellie Goulding **

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><p>He jolted awake.<p>

His heart was hammering in his chest and his eyes scanned the room quickly, looking for whatever caused him to wake up in the dead of night.

He blinked and adjusted to the darkness and listened. All he could hear was the soft rattling of wind against his curtains and the rush of water in the pipes behind him in the walls.

His pulse continued it's quick beating as he tried to recall his dream. He faintly remembered the feeling of trees and dirt beneath his palms. He could smell fresh rain and lavender. He remembered the sight of blonde hair in the distance. And then he vividly remembered the piercing scream that caused him to quickly wake up.

He shook his head at his own thoughts and turned his head toward his phone. The bright light caused him to squint as he looked at the time. 3:47 AM.

He quickly locked his phone and fell back against his bed. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into a slumber but his heart still hadn't calmed down. The scream still rang around in his head.

Dreams were something he was never fond of. He mostly dreamed of his childhood. The memories were clear in his mind and the scenarios would never change. His father still left. His mother stopped caring. Octavia almost starved to death. He would avoid dreams at all costs if he could.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to let the soft patter of wind lull him back to sleep.

He thought about what was going to happen when he officially started his day. He would have to leave Octavia money to get food for the party and whatever else she needed. He had to pull a double at work. And then he had to pick up Clarke. (He was still going to blame his dream for his still increased heart rate).

She had looked so vulnerable and scared last night. Like Octavia had looked plenty of times but on Clarke it looked different. Mostly because it appeared to even be foreign to her.

When she had run into him, he didn't even know what to think. She was clutching her arm and her eyes were wide with something resembling fear. It had thrown him off. He wasn't sure why it had caused him to feel whatever it was that he did feel.

He wasn't good with feelings either.

He gave a soft grunt before he threw his legs over the side of his bed. He brought a tired hand through his hair and pushed it off of his clammy forehead. He took a deep breath before he stretched up and rubbed his bare stomach with his hand with a yawn.

He quietly walked out of his room and down the hallway a bit. He lightly pushed on Octavia's door and peeked his head inside. Even though she was eighteen, going on nineteen, his sister still slept with a night-light. His heart settled a bit more when he saw her dark hair peeking out from her comforter.

Just as quietly, he closed the door behind him and ventured off into the kitchen. He yawned once more as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a water bottle.

He walked over to the small table and sat down as he took a drink from the cold bottle. He was about to sigh in content when he heard the soft shuffling of feet (Octavia hadn't outgrown that either). He lowered the water bottle and watched the face so familiar to his own appear in the dark kitchen.

"You okay?" His voice was hoarse with sleep but any ounce of sleep left him as he stared at his sister.

She nodded her head and walked toward the fridge, reaching for the half gallon of milk. "You walk heavy."

He watched her pour herself a glass and drink it all within a minute. He remembered being the one to bring her glasses of milk in the middle of night when she woke up crying. He wondered if she did.

"Are you okay?"

He glanced up at her and took in the small crease in her brow. She still looked so young to him. Like the girl who asked for piggyback rides and for him to braid her hair. Would she always look that way to him?

He nodded his head slowly in response to her question as he traced the cracks in the table. "Yeah, I'm alright."

There was silence for a few moments before he lifted his head to see her clean out her glass and place it on the drying rack. She rubbed at her eyes before she walked toward the couch without as much of a word.

She pulled on the throw blanket she had made a few years ago and sat in her corner of the couch.

He stood up and put his water bottle back into the fridge and walked to the couch with a wave of sleep hitting him.

He rested against the opposite corner and waited for his sister to turn on the television. He laughed to an overplayed sitcom and felt his eyes grow dreary. He fell asleep to his sister's laughter and the feeling of a blanket being thrown over him.

…

"You're off your game, Blake."

He tugged at his white collar and narrowed his eyes. He wasn't completely off his game. He had woken up at a decent hour and then he had made breakfast with his sister before shuffling off for his shift at The Ark. He couldn't really explain why he was so off at work.

His head was functioning but it wasn't working properly. He kept mixing up silly things, like drinks or salad dressings.

He brought a calloused hand to his face and groaned before flicking off Jasper with a small smile. He walked toward the dark haired boy and brought a cucumber to his mouth, successfully blocking the smack from Jasper's waiting hand.

"Monty was cooking up something when I left." Jasper said with a smirk as he tossed a small salad onto a plate that probably cost more than what both of them made in a day. "Smelled pret-tay strong."

He nodded his head and reached for another cucumber. "As long as it's not that apple pie shit. I had to bleach my carpet last year." He grimaced.

Jasper let out a full laugh as he hollered out the order and placed it onto the waiting rack. "Something fruity I think." He pulled off his plastic gloves and leaned against the counter as well. "Want me to leave work with you to help set up?"

He grinded his jaw before he coughed slightly. "I have something to do after work."

Jasper narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"

He really didn't want to talk about this. He wasn't good at talking about this kind of stuff, even though he knew it didn't really matter. He glanced at Jasper once more before he shrugged. "I'm picking up a girl."

Jasper rolled his eyes but grinned. "Of course you are." He turned his attention toward the incoming order and started to put on another pair of plastic gloves.

If there was ever a moment where he regretted something, it had to be this moment exactly. He had seen his fair share of women since he turned fifteen. Part of it because he just enjoyed it. And part of it because it was the only time he could feel an ounce of something besides hatred for himself.

He had a wide spectrum of women but nothing really lasted. He knew that was no one's fault but his own.

He gave out a cough and tugged on the sleeves of his jacket. "It's not like that."

Jasper turned to him with a look, but it dropped once he turned fully toward him. (It would always amaze him how Jasper could keep complete eye contact and still be able to prepare a meal.) "You're serious. Wait is it-" Jasper waited a few seconds. "Is it the girl you left with last night?"

"Why?"

Jasper let out a breath as he pushed the salad onto the waiting rack. "Clarke Griffin. She's not like us, man." He shook his head and shrugged. "This." He gestured widely with his arms. "This lifestyle is all she knows."

Like he didn't already know that. He shrugged and popped another cucumber into his mouth before going to check his tables.

He thought about Clarke and the way the sun reflected in her hair. He thought about the way she looked so uncomfortable sitting amongst people at The Ark.

He thought about how her eyes grew so wide when he invited her to his party. How she mumbled to herself before agreeing, as if she didn't believe someone was asking her a question and allowing her to answer for herself.

He shook his head and groaned when he reached a table and realized he had gotten a salad dressing wrong.

Again.

…

He parked the car before the large house and stared at the red door.

It was nearly sunset, so the house stood tall amongst the dark purple hues behind it. He stared down at his jeans and faded gray shirt before he pulled the key from the ignition. He closed the door and stared at the house once more before walking toward it.

To say he felt inferior would be an understatement. The house only appeared the get larger the closer he walked toward it. The brick sidewalk toward the door was pulled free of weeds and sat perfectly beneath his feet.

He jumped up toward the door, lifted his hand and paused. He brought his hand through his hair and ruffled it as he let out a breath. He brought his hand back toward the door and knocked three times before bringing his hand back to his side.

Nothing.

He looked at the street and then back toward the house. He couldn't have been in the wrong place. He was about to lift his hand back toward the door but it whipped opened beneath his hand.

Her hair was pulled away from her face and her eyes were probably as wide as his were.

"Uh-he-hi." She mumbled out as she stood up straight. "I know you said not to make anything but I didn't do anything all day, so I made some cookies. I hope that's okay."

He wasn't even sure he got all she said because she was talking so fast. He smiled at her. "That's fine." He pointed back toward his car. "I can wait for you."

She shook her head quickly and opened the door up wider. "No, come on in."

He stared at her once more before stepping into the house. He glanced at his worn out boots against the polished hard wood floor beneath them. He glanced back up at Clarke and watched her chewing her lip. She did that a lot.

She hopped on one foot to another as she closed the door. She looked like she was waiting to say something but the chime from the kitchen cut her off. He watched her prance down the long hallway before he followed in her direction.

Pictures of a young blonde girl flooded the walls. Most of them were filled with a smiling young girl in a private school uniform holding up some sort of achievement with a smiling man beside her. He assumed it to be her father.

As he got farther down the hall, the smiles faded and the girl stood alone.

He found himself stopping before a picture of Clarke in her graduation cap and gown. Her face wasn't looking at the camera but she was smiling at something beyond the camera, like a friend or something. It was the most genuine smile he had seen thus far coating the walls of her house.

"Ready?"

He turned his head and watched her holding a Tupperware container in her hands. She was wearing a long-sleeved green shirt with a pair of jean shorts. He recalled her soft voice saying green was her favorite color.

"Always am, princess." He smirked slightly in her direction as he once again followed her toward the door. He watched her fiddle with the lock once they were outside before heading toward his car. He opened up her door before his own and watched as she clutched the Tupperware container in her lap. He went toward his side and quickly got in. She took a deep breath, like she was panicked. "You know, you don't have to come if you don't want to."

She turned her head quickly. "I want to." She glanced back down at the Tupperware. "You're going to think it's dumb."

"Try me."

He watched her tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "The party the other night was the first party I've really been too."

He stared at the stubborn piece of hair that was already becoming unkempt. She was so much more pure than him. She radiated good. From her pale skin to her deep blue eye, she reflected against his dark tones. She was like first sign of spring after a dreaded winter.

He couldn't believe the words floating around in his brain. He wasn't like this. Not for anyone. Not even Octavia.

His silence must of unsettled her because she was reaching for the door handle. He acted before he thought (something that kept happening lately) and reached for her hand against the handle. It felt so warm against his cool one. "How about." He pulled his hand away quickly and looked at her. Eye for eye, even though all he wanted to look at was her mouth. "We go and if you totally hate it, we can go get waffles."

She laughed loudly at that. "It's your party! You can't leave."

He shrugged, a smile gracing his features. "It's my party, I can do whatever I want." Her laughter rung in his ears again and he found himself staring out the car with a smile on his face. Once her laughter died down, he turned to her again. He felt his mouth still twisted up in a grin. "Okay?"

Her hands had loosened on the Tupperware container. Her cheeks were a bright pink from laughter and her eyes were bluer. He decided that's how he liked her best. "Okay."

…

He led her toward his apartment with his hand on the small of her back.

He tried not to think about the warmth that radiated onto his palm but it was hard not to.

The music had reached them once they got off the stairs. He groaned when he heard nineties rock but he guessed that was what happened when you put Monty in charge of music.

He pulled his hand away and stood before his open door. People were everywhere but not excessively. Even a few of his neighbors were weaving in and out of their own apartments.

He turned his body toward hers and watched her eyes dancing over everyone. She looked like a deer in headlights. He waited a few seconds and then pulled one of her hands into his own, causing her to jolt up and stare at him.

He weaved his fingers through hers and slowly took the Tupperware container from her other hand. "We can leave whenever you want."

She stared at him and then toward their locked hands. She didn't move away. "Lead the way."

He smiled and turned around, keeping her hand locked between his own. He was surprised how many people fit into his apartment but then again he had done this before. All the furniture was pushed up against the walls and there were people doing shots in the kitchen and people dancing in the living room.

He pulled Clarke down the hallway and toward his room.

He quickly pulled her into the small space. He was slightly off guard and nervous and it made him huff. He let go of her hand and closed the door behind her before walking toward his closet and pulling out a bottle of Bacardi. He placed her cookies onto his dresser as he reached for two shot glasses. He filled them up (his more than hers) and handed one in her direction.

"I don't-." She stopped as her hands circled the shot glass anyway. She glanced at the clear liquid and then turned her head slightly toward the music from the party. She lifted the glass toward her lips and drank it all. Gasping loudly after the burn hit her throat. "Shit."

He stared at her and shook his head with a smile before downing his own glass.

She looked at him in disbelief as he reached for her class and set it next to his back onto the dresser. "How are you fine? That was god awful."

He laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Practice." He glanced at her and then nodded back toward the party. "Think you're ready?"

She bit her lip. "Sure."

He nodded toward the door and headed that way, holding his left hand out behind him. It took her a moment, but her small hand grasped his own as she followed behind him.

He wanted to spend hours memorizing the lines on her hands and seeing if they flowed into any of the cracks in his own.

He needed another drink or else his thoughts were going to cause him to go insane (even though he was sure the smell of lavender she wore was doing a fine job of that anyway).

He led her into the kitchen and didn't let go of her hand. He wasn't sure what had come over him but he didn't want her to go anywhere else and by the pressure she was pressing back into his, he was sure she felt the same.

He nodded toward Jasper and Monty as the pair drank out of red cups. "Guys this is Clarke." Jasper quickly wiped his mouth and offered Clarke his hand. He watched as her cheeks reddened when she shook his hand, keeping her other locked with his.

"Nice to meet you Clarke, I'm Jasper." He hit Monty on the back of the head. "This is Monty, my best mate."

He rolled his eyes but smiled when he heard the soft laughter coming from Clarke. He smiled and watched his sister weave her way around dancing bodies and into the small open spaced kitchen. She glanced at him and then the hand he had wrapped around Clarke's.

"Clarke this is my sister, Octavia."

He glanced from Octavia toward Clarke and saw a weird look on her face; a look of recognition or something of the sort. He glanced back at his sister with a curious look on his face.

Octavia smiled and nodded toward Clarke. "Good to see you again." His head tilted. Octavia noticed and smirked. "I can have friends, Bell." She smirked and pulled on Clarke's empty hand, tugging her away from his grasp. "I actually have something for you."

Clarke's head turned and he watched her eyes grow wide. "What is it?"

Octavia grinned the grin he knew too well. She had done something. "Just come with me." She reached out her hand and tugged lightly on Clarke's empty hand. She glanced back at him and grinned. "I'll return her in a bit."

He nodded and watched the pair walk back do the hallway. He was only jolted back by the soft punch in his shoulder.

He watched Jasper smirk. "You have it bad." Monty was making kissing faces at him.

He didn't have it bad. It didn't have anything at all. He was just being the decent guy. Wasn't he? Whatever he was feeling was causing him to be thrown off more so than usual.

As he told himself all this, his hand missed the warmth of Clarke's in his own. He heard Jasper and Monty laugh once more.

"Fuck off."

He grabbed himself a red cup and took a few drinks as he listened to his friends mumble about something that couldn't even hold his attention. What was going on with him? Why did he care about someone he barely knew? This wasn't like him.

And what was Octavia doing with her? He finished his cup and watched as Clarke came back into view with reddened cheeks and a bag from the boutique Octavia worked at. He tilted his head as he looked at his sister who merely shrugged and made her way into the dancing bodies in the living room.

Clarke walked toward him and stood almost between his legs as he leaned against the counter.

Without thinking (like usual), he pushed a piece of blonde hair behind her ear and gestured toward the bag. "You go shopping in O's closet?" He didn't want to think about how she leaned somewhat into his hand but he couldn't help it as a warm feeling swam around in his stomach.

Her cheeks reddened as she shook her head. She opened it and peeked inside once more only to cause her cheeks to redden again. She pulled up a glimpse of something purple and bit her lip as she gently placed it back into the bag. "I tried on a dress a few days ago and didn't like how it-." She shook her head. "I just didn't like the style but she found me something I liked."

That didn't surprise him. Maybe his sister was smitten to the blue eyes of Clarke Griffin too.

"She also wouldn't let me out of her room until I accepted it."

He laughed. "Sounds like her." She nodded and kept her eyes on bag. He brought his hand to lift her chin up. He smiled at her. "Not feeling it, huh?"

She smiled sheepishly and looked around the even more crowded apartment. "I'm just not used to all this."

"Waffles?"

She shook her head. "No, it's alright."

He stared at her for another moment before he pushed himself off the counter and reached for her hand. He pulled her so quickly she gasped but followed him anyway. He lead her back toward his bedroom and shut the door behind her.

He walked toward his window and pushed the window open all the way and quickly stepped out onto the fire escape. He looked back into his room to watch her careful set the bag onto his bed before walking toward the window hesitantly.

He offered her his hand and watched her contemplate what he was insinuating. "Do you trust me?" His tone was light but her face grew serious.

"Yes."

The three-letter word caused him to stand still. Her face was so serious and her eyes were shining against the moon outside. He watched her take his hand but she didn't need it as she climbed out his window and onto the fire escape. He gestured toward the ladder to their left. "Ladies first."

She nodded her head and reached out for the rails as she slowly started to pull herself up. He followed her up and watched her take in the view as her feet landed on the roof.

It wasn't so much for the landscape and buildings around them but for the shimmer of stars above their heads. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened in shock as she walked toward the railing.

He crossed his arms and walked toward her, taking in the view himself.

She sighed and pointed out a shooting star flying over their heads. "What would you wish for?"

Her voice was soft, almost like a younger girl in amazement. His brain flooded with images. He saw Octavia going to something other than a shitty community college. He saw his friends reaching their dreams instead of being halted. He saw himself doing something he was proud of. He saw Clarke without an ounce of sadness on her face.

"I don't even know what I would wish for."

She nodded her head and crossed her arms over the railing. She took a deep breath and smiled as she looked up at the stars.

He looked at her and thought about how much his life had changed in only the week and a half he had known her. It was strange how he met her in the exact moment he had.

They stood in silence for some time. He honestly couldn't tell if it had been hours or merely minutes. He felt her skin radiating onto his even through the small distance between them.

He knew life wasn't a wish-giving factory but as he looked her, he knew exactly what he would wish for.


	6. VI

[A/N: So here is chapter six! I intended it to be longer but I wanted to switch POV's so I kinda left you all wanting a bit more! The next chapter will pick off right where this one left off! Thank you all for being so great! Everything you do makes my day! I should be able to update sometime next week but if not, I'll post a like sneak peek on my Tumblr. Much love, Mia]

**Music Inspired: Yellow Light / Of Monsters and Men**

* * *

><p>She felt warm.<p>

She slowly opened up her eyes and adjusted toward the darkened room. She took in the bare covered walls, the flow of wind from the open window and the steady breathing from something next to her.

She turned her head slightly to see him sleeping soundly behind her. A peaceful look upon his face.

She didn't even remember falling asleep. He had taken her up to the roof and they had stayed there for what seemed like hours. A small infinity of pure content. Eventually, they had gone back down to his room. The partygoers had left and she offered to help clean up but he had shaken his head and told her to just wait in his room and then he would take her home.

The last thing she remembered was sitting on top of his comforter listening to him laugh quietly with his sister.

She knew her mother would be furious but that didn't motivate her enough to move. She felt so content where she was. She felt safe. All the pain she carried seemed to be further away than it usually was.

She gently laid her head back onto the pillow and snuggled under the blankets with a brief smile on her face.

Just when she was about to fall back under, she heard him mumble under his breath and move closer toward her. She froze and opened her eyes when she felt his arm circle her waist, locking her in place against him. His breath was right against the back of her neck.

She grew anxious at first. Mostly nervous that she would move and bump into him; causing him to stir away from her. She counted in her head before the feeling of his heartbeat set her to sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the room was filled with a pale glow. She turned her head but she didn't have to look to know he wasn't there. The warmth she felt when she woke up in the middle of the night was gone. She ran her hands over his side before she sat up on the bed.

She listened for a sound but there wasn't any.

She yawned and sat up, throwing her hands over her head as she stretched. She slowly pulled herself off of the bed and onto the harsh wooden floor. Compared to the wood floor at home, this one was covered in scratches and cracks. Her mother would have a field day about it. She found herself in awe of it, tracing it briefly with her toes.

She shook her head and peeked at herself slightly from the mirror hanging off of his closest. Her long-sleeved shirt was wrinkled around her waist, her hair was more frizzy that usual and the light makeup she had wore last night must have rubbed of onto his pillow.

She bit her lip as she turned at stared at the bed.

She never felt that with a person before. Besides sleepovers with Wells growing up, she never shared a bed with a boy before.

Her skin grew hotter at the remembrance of warmth wrapped around her like vine. She took a few moments before she walked toward the bed and quickly made it. She smoothed out the comforter before turning toward his dresser picking up her bag from his sister and her phone (she didn't bother to check her phone, her mother would repeat everything she left on her phone in the next few hours in person.). She glanced at his bedroom door in confusion. Would he be out there? What was she to say?

She took a deep breath and opened his bedroom door and listened. It was then that she heard soft whispers and the clattering of dishes.

She walked down the small hallway to see the back of his head and his sister's bright face.

"Morning sleepyhead." Octavia smirked as she glanced into her cereal bowl.

She watched as he turned his head slightly, as she had done in the middle of the night to check that he was there. He coughed slightly before he stood up, offering her his chair.

They stared at another. She wondered if he remembered how tightly he had held her last night. If he had wanted to remember it, anyway. He stared at her for another moment before he glanced toward the fridge with a weird look on his face. "We have cereal or uh-toast if you're hungry."

She remembered the warmth again. The feeling of his skin almost on top of hers. She glanced at the ground. "I should probably get home." She looked up and watched his face harden, as if she was setting some boundary she hadn't realized. "My mom. She's already probably freaking out."

He nodded his head even though his jaw remained locked in place. "I have to be at the shop in a bit so-."

"I can take her." Octavia chipped in. She had forgotten she was even in the room. She turned toward him, wanting to rub away the hard look on his face with her fingertips but she remained rooted where she was.

"Alright." He nodded he head and looked back at her. His face was a bit softer now but not as much. The small dimple in his chin stood out to her and she wondered what it would feel like underneath her lips. "I'll see you."

She wanted to ask when and where and how but all the questions only remained flooded around in her brain.

She held on tightly to the bag in her hands and prayed her voice wouldn't waver, showing her uncertainty. "I'll see you."

He nodded at her and pulled out his keys from his pocket before tossing them to Octavia. He glanced at her once more before he turned and walked down the hallway.

Why was this eating her away so bad? She stared down the now empty hallway and only turned away when she heard Octavia clear her throat.

"Ready?"

Even though she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the warmth she felt, she said yes.

…

"Did you not think to call me?"

She sat on the stiff white couch as her mother paced in front of her. She had gotten home less than ten minutes ago and after reassuring her mother she was alright, she had gotten a full on lecture. As if she wasn't a nineteen year old who spent most of her time abiding to the rules her mother had always set up for her.

Do this. Do that. Don't say this. Don't act like that. Wear this. Talk to these people. Don't talk to those people.

"Clarke? Are you even listening to me?"

She glanced at her mother.

Her life felt like a production. From her mother dictating whom she could hangout with, to what she should look like. She never felt like herself within the walls of her home, at least not anymore.

There was a time when she would laugh loudly, even a bit absurdly. A time where she felt so much love. A time where there wasn't a thick wall of tension behind every crevice.

That was so long ago that it felt like a dream to even think it was once her life.

She glanced up at her mother but was only answered with a shake of her head. "If only your father could see you now." Her mother shook her head once more before walking out of the room.

She felt her hands shake in her lap as they remained interlocked.

Her body felt the impact it had when she last saw her father. She could hear his voice in her ear encouraging her to get out of the car that had trapped them both. She could smell fire. She could smell burning flesh.

Her pulse grew faster. She stood up on shaky feet and swayed slightly before she turned and headed toward her room. She tripped slightly but it didn't make an impact to what was already going on in her head.

She climbed the stairs and bolted toward her room. She slammed it shut behind her and sunk down onto her knees.

She just needed to breathe. She brought a hand to her mouth and sobbed into it, muffling her sound. Her breathing grew harsher as she cried harder. Images flooded her brain. The warmth that rushed to her skin wasn't the warmth she felt this morning.

This warmth was cunning. This warmth wrapped around her and caused her skin to boil. This warmth caused her to lose the one thing she loved most in this world. This warmth caused her to lose herself.

She banged her head against the back of her door and let out a sigh.

She thought hard about last night on the roof. The memories fresh in her mind helped block the ones that would never leave. She felt his rough hand in her own. She thought about his voice when he asked her to trust him and how she did so without a second thought.

She let out another shaky breath before she stood up and walked toward her bed. She burrowed under her comforter and sought out the warmth that made her feel wanted. The warmth that made her feel peace instead of destruction.

Though the warmth never came, the memories lulled her to sleep.

…

She found herself in the library.

She pulled out old classics and sat down on the ground to read them. She told her mother she was going shopping with a few friends from high school but it was a simple excuse to get out of the house; to get away from her. Traveling to space wouldn't even be far enough.

She ran her fingers over the crisp pages and sighed in content. She got lost in the story in her lap that she didn't budge until she felt someone kick her foot, twice.

She glanced up to see Wells standing above her with a grin on his face. He shook his head before he sank down onto the ground across from her. "I stopped by your house and your mom said you were shopping with Raven Reyes and her posse. So of course my first choice to actually look for you was here."

She smirked as she closed the book in her lap. "I guess I'm predictable."

"Highly the opposite." Wells was silent for a few moments before his face turned serious. Because he knew her so well, she barely had to say a word to him. "Want to talk about it?"

She wanted to talk about everything going on in her head but the words didn't match up to the feelings she had in her body. She wanted to talk about how her mother infuriated her. She wanted to talk about how much she hated Yale. She wanted to talk about how much her brain thought about Bellamy Blake (she only managed to catch his last name by someone calling him it at the party last night, it fit him, like everything else).

Wells would understand how she felt about her mother because he had felt the same way about his father. Wells put up with it better though. Wells could go into a full room and make everyone like him.

She would walk into a full room and keep to herself.

She turned her attention back toward Wells and watched him give her a small smile. A genuine smile with just the right amount of shyness.

"How about a hike?"

She smiled and shook her head like a small child (even though she still believed that Wells hated hiking). Wells laughed and stood up, offering her his hand. She grasped it tightly in her own and pulled herself up. She carefully walked down the row of books and carefully placed them back before she jumped and followed Wells out of the library.

They drove to beaten down hiking trails across down. Clarke smiled at the fresh smell from the trees and the smell of rebirth from the flowers across the ground floor. They didn't talk as they hiked. She smiled with every step and she was certain Wells groaned but he didn't complain because he knew she needed this.

They climbed up a makeshift mountain craved in the earth. Wells stood against a tree but she went toward the edge and breathed in the wind. She breathed in the stillness.

It was moments like this that she thought about her father most. The true beauty in the world that he taught her to look for. The beauty he had taught her to love. They would spend hours in the woods, sketching trees and flowers as they explored the land together. He always encouraged her to be herself in the woods. He always encouraged her to stop and smell the roses.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the loss of him.

"Clarke?"

She took a moment, wiped her face and plastered a smile on, something her mother taught her to do well. "Race you down."

There were some mountains she wasn't ready to climb yet.

…

She wandered aimlessly through the Collins household.

She often found herself wandering away from any member of the Collins family. Henry Collins because he asked her questions she hated to answer. Caroline Collins because she acted worse than her own mother. Lastly, Finn Collins because she could only handle his puppy eyes during their weekly brunch.

However it was Caroline and Henry's twenty-fifth anniversary and her mother wouldn't let her stay home.

She heard Finn calling her name and she quickly ducked into the bathroom on the second floor. The bathroom was modern and covered in blacks and grays.

She locked the door and leaned against it because she made her way to the middle of the bathroom facing the large mirrors. She had worn the purple dress Octavia had gotten her. It was almost the same style as the last one but instead of it being strapless, there were a fine dark lace covering that ended up below her elbows. It had looked hand stitched on.

She tore her eyes away from her reflection as she sat herself down on the closed to toilet and counted to two hundred before she emerged back out. She ran her hand against the wall as she reached the stairs.

Also rolling her eyes at how quickly Finn appeared at the bottom step.

She took a deep breath as she slowly walked down. There were people chattering all around but she didn't hear them. "Hey."

She nodded as she watched him tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. It was getting too long. "Hey." She brought her arms across her chest.

Finn glanced at her arm and sighed. "How have you been?"

She turned her head and kicked at the ground with her silver ballet slipper. She shrugged. She felt uncomfortable. She wanted to be in the walls of her room or in the warmth she found herself craving. "I'm alright."

He took a breath and gestured toward the nearly empty sitting room across from them. "Can we talk?"

She thought of all the reasons she shouldn't but she found herself walking behind him toward the sitting room. The sitting room was all white. She stood out against the white walls. "Talk."

He stood up straighter at her tone, tucking his hair once again behind his ear. "I just wanted to apologize." He coughed. "For last time."

She crossed her arms tighter across her chest. Remembering when he grasped her arm so tightly and how much it hurt her, even hours later. She couldn't find it in herself to stay mad though. She stared at his sunken face and the downcast of his eyes. She took a deep breath as glanced around the room before settling her eyes on him. "It's alright."

He let a breath. "It's not alright and I wasn't right. As much as I want something else with you." He looked at her the way he always looked at her. It caused her to turn away. "I really just need in you my life. Even as a friend."

She had missed Finn as her friend. Feelings had gotten in the way of their friendship so early in the game but he had talked to her at least once a week while she had been at Yale. He even offered to Skype her when she stayed in on the weekends. Though his intent might not have been different, she had appreciated everything he did.

She lowered her arms and twirled a piece of hair around her finger. "Just friends though."

"Scout's Honor."

She was pretty sure he was holding his fingers up wrong but she smiled slightly anyway.

He smiled at her and lowered his hand, his cheeks slightly red. She heard his father call out his name. Her eyes widened and he shrugged. "I'll see you."

He had turned before he could see the way she stood still at the simple phrase. Already thinking of the boy who had said it to her first.

She didn't think. She walked out of the sitting room and headed toward the large front door. Not looking back as it shut loudly behind her.

…

She paced at the back door of The Ark.

She was still in her purple dress but she had tossed her hair up into a simple bun. This was a stupid idea. She didn't even know what she was doing. She hadn't seen him for almost a week and she was pretty certain he was avoiding her.

Even when she went to brunch last Tuesday, he hadn't entered the dining room once (no matter how hard she stared at the doors).

She jumped from side to side and gave a weak groan. What was she doing? She didn't do things like this. She didn't leave parties without telling her mother to try and find a boy that probably didn't even think twice about her. She bit her lip. She shook her head and started to walk away.

Then the door opened.

She turned around and watched him stand before her, only lightened by the weak light at the back door. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt with a dark grease stain across it. It was so simple. So him.

His head tilted as he took in her appearance. "What are you doing here?"

Though his words weren't spoken harshly, it stabbed at her. She stood where she was. She tilted her chin up and crossed her arms across her chest, as if she was protecting her own heart physically. Not that it even mattered. It hammered recklessly at the sight of him. "You're avoiding me."

He looked away and shook his head. "How did you even get here? Should I look for a magic pumpkin?"

She narrowed her eyes, not wavering. She took a small step in his direction, her ballet shoes shimmering in the dark. "What are you so afraid of?" Her voice was soft but she knew he had heard her by the look that washed over his face.

He brought a hand through his hair and ruffled it, a sight she found herself grow weak for every time he did it.

When his eyes finally reached hers, he looked small. His shoulders were hung. His eyes were so focused on her own; as if she wasn't real. It unsettled her and it made her feel on fire at the exact same time.

It made her feel the warmth they shared in his bed. It made her feel like she was coming out of a darkened place. It made her feel completely and utterly, alive.

"You."

"What? Why would-." She was cut off as he walked quickly toward her. He brought one hand to the back of her head and brought his lips so closely to hers that she could feel his breath against her own. She could feel his erratic heart beating along with hers.

He took a shaky breath before he leaned his forehead against hers. His hands remained in her hair before slowly bringing it down toward her neck, leaving a trail of goose-bumps as it went.

"You scare the hell out of me, Clarke." She didn't say anything. She didn't move. "You're so much better than me." His fingers trailed across her neck. "So much better than I will ever deserve but I can't stop thinking about you." He let out a breath. "I don't think I want to."

She tried to say something but it died in her throat. Her mind swarmed. She brought her hands toward his face and trailed a finger down his cheek.

She took a moment and soaked in the feeling she was wrapped in. The feeling of his hands. The feeling of his heart racing against her own. They were wrapped around each other as they had been in the middle of the night, days ago. He caused her to feel so many things so simply and all at once.

She turned off her brain and connected her lips to his.


	7. VII

[A/N: Here is chapter seven! Who else is emotionally crippled by Wednesday's episode? I'm sad to say it inspired me for this chapter but I promise there will be a happy ending! **This chapter** has some language, mentions of abuse and a large panic attack. I hope you enjoy is as much as I enjoyed writing it!]

**Music Inspired: Promise / Ben Howard **[Highly recommend listening as you read!]

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><p>Her lips were soft.<p>

He stood stunned for a few seconds before he felt her mouth moving against his own. It was awkward at first, their lips fumbling together as they tried to find a steady pace. His pulse was rushing. She was shaking. He wasn't thinking straight; he wasn't thinking at all.

Once she opened her mouth, he was a goner.

His tongue weaved between hers and they danced in almost perfect harmony. He groaned as he brought his hands to either side of her face, kissing her with everything he felt. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling but it was enough to spark his entire body.

He pulled away first with a pant. He tilted his head back and kept his hands on either side of her face. Her blue eyes opened slowly and he watched the recognition of what she had done wash over her face. Her eyes grew wide and she brought a hand to her lips; he wondered if hers tingled like his still were.

Their eyes remained locked before she lowered her hand and kissed him again. This time, it wasn't hesitated. She moved almost in slow motion. Tilting her head toward the side as she latched her lips onto his. They kissed another like it had been something they did a million times before.

Her hands were in his hair and his seemed to be everywhere on her that he could touch without thinking too much about it. He felt the soft curve of her small hip. He felt the smooth lace beneath his fingertips. He felt their hearts starting to beat together as one.

He never felt like this before with a person. He never felt this ignition in his bones. He never felt passion creeping up his back and into his fingers at the mere touch of her skin.

It drove him wild.

It consumed him.

She pulled way this time with red lips and tinted cheeks. His hand remained on her hip and he wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

It was as if time had stopped. He watched whatever was between them change right before his eyes. This wasn't anything ordinary, this wasn't something he could get rid of. This was an addiction, a craving that couldn't be contained by anything other than the girl before him.

He lowered his hand and weaved it between hers. It was different than before. This time the simple contact from her hand made him feel everything he had felt with his lips attached to hers.

He didn't say anything as they walked toward his car. He opened the door for her and watched her settle in. He stood still and she turned her head in confusion at the fact that he hadn't moved. He couldn't answer her with words because he wasn't good at words and he wasn't good at saying what he was actually feeling.

So, he bent down and kissed her again. She sat up straighter and brought a hand to the side of his face as if she was consumed as much as he was. When he pulled away she remained close to his face, a brief smile on her face.

"You're not what I expected." Her voice was tender and her lips were swollen.

He couldn't find his voice. He wasn't sure if it was shock or the fact that this entire situation was not something he saw coming, if at all. He never thought he would feel this way about a girl and he wasn't even sure what the hell was going on with him. He repeated the words back to her and watched her lips turn up into an even bigger smile. He lowered his head and shook it at her before he glanced at his worn out boots.

He glanced at the shiny shoes on her feet then back toward his own. The last time he got a pair of new boots was last winter and he didn't even want to think about how long he had the pair before.

He glared at his shoes.

He turned his head up and glanced at her. Her brow was fused and her hands were folded in her lap as she watched him. She probably saw whatever just happened flicker over his face.

He was fucking up already.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before folding her hands back into her lap. She waited a bit before answering and he watched the brief conflict wash over her face before she shook her head.

He nodded and felt his pulse rise as he slowly shut her door. He made his way toward the driver's side and slid into his seat. He could hear her breathing and he could feel his own pulse rushing. This never happened before when he took a girl home. But this wasn't just some ordinary girl. This was the girl he felt so conflicted over. This was the girl that made him feel things that didn't make sense. This was a girl that seemed to brighten entire constellations that floated in the sky.

He started the car and then reached for her hand, weaving it through his own. Anchoring himself so he wouldn't float away.

It was strange how one person could confuse the hell out of him but make him feel completely still at the same time. He gripped her hand and brought it into his lap as he drove them toward his apartment.

He didn't even pay attention to the roads as he drove. All he could focus on was the soft humming she did as she sang along to some song on the radio and how her thumb rubbed patterns against his hand.

Once his apartment came into view and her hand fell from his, all the nerves rushed back into him. He never got nervous. Not about things like this. Not about girls. Not about anything.

It was like he was having an out of body experience.

He held her hand tightly as he walked her up to his apartment. It was dark when he entered the small space and as he flickered on the light, he saw Octavia's curly handwriting on the table, saying she was out at the movies with Jasper and Monty.

He placed the note back onto the table and didn't look behind him as he pulled Clarke to his bedroom. His heart was in his ears.

When he turned his light on and faced her, her face seemed to mirror what his mind what trying to comprehend. He watched her gulp as she glanced at his made bed before looking at him. She didn't have to say anything after that. He knew without asking that she hadn't done anything like this before. He let out a sigh of relief, even though he didn't know what for.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "We don't-." He watched her face. "don't have to do anything, alright?" He thought about the feeling of her lips on his. "We can just sleep."

She nodded and crossed her arms. "I've-I." Her face flushed.

He shook his head and smiled lightly at her. He brought his hand to her face and rubbed her cheek. "It's alright." She nodded and he dropped his hand before he turned toward his dresser. He pulled out a long sleeved blue shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He held them up toward her before throwing them in her direction. Whatever they were feeling moments ago fleeted as she giggled softly and grasped the clothes in her hands. He reached for a pair of sweatpants for himself as he nodded toward his door. "I'll let you change."

"Alright."

He moved around her and then down the hall toward the bathroom. He closed the door and moved toward the sink. He gripped the cheap porcelain beneath his fingers and rested his head against the medicine cabinet. He had no idea what he was doing. He wasn't like this. He wasn't the good guy.

He thought of her laughter. He thought of her lips.

He groaned as he hit his head against the mirror before he quickly changed. He pulled a navy shirt off the back of the bathroom door (he would have gone without one but he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable). He shut the light off in the bathroom and slowly padded toward his own room. He knocked and waited for her to tell him it was okay to come in.

The dress she wore was folded neatly on-top of his dresser. Her hair flowed around her as she sat Indian style on his bed. Her hands clutched the ends of the sleeves of his shirt and her cheeks still were a rosy red. It was becoming his favorite color.

He turned the light off and opened his window a bit before he sat on his bed. She crawled under the covers and he found himself doing the same.

They faced another and the brief moonlight was enough for him to see the features of her face. The brightness of her eyes. The small freckles on her cheeks. The barely noticeable mole above her lip.

She brought her hand up and traced his face lightly, almost hesitantly beneath her fingertips; they left a trail of fire on his face. He scooted closer toward her and placed his arm around her waist.

He wanted to say something to her. He wanted to trace every inch of her skin with his fingers. He wanted to explore her mouth with his own.

Instead, he watched as she quickly fell asleep.

He didn't even remember falling asleep but when his eyes opened next, the room was barely lit by the sunlight from outside.

They were facing another and their bodies had become more intertwined than when they had first gotten in bed together. Her leg was thrown over his and her head was resting on his arm. His was gripping the back of her shirt so tightly. He frowned as he let go.

He brought his free hand and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. He paused when he felt her stir beneath him. She breathed out and twisted up her nose before she slowly opened her eyes.

They looked at another again.

Her eyes blinked rapidly before they settled down and onto his face. He stared right back at hers. Her blue eyes, the same shade of the ocean held just enough mystery for him to continue searching for something he had no clue he needed.

The glow from the sun shined delicately through the window, it reminded him of her hair, which he was now weaving his hands into.

"Hi." His voice was rough with sleep.

"Hi." Her voice was as beautiful as a bird singing in the forest.

He looked at her in question before she remained still. He slowly brought his lips toward hers and nipped at her bottom lip, coaxing it with his own. He needed more. So much more.

He gently pushed her onto her back before settling his weight softly on-top of her. She gripped his shirt in her hands and opened her mouth more for his own. He felt his body awakening in more ways than one. He wanted her and he wanted her to feel every once of it.

But then, something inside of him made his freeze. He didn't want to rush this. He didn't want to fuck this up, which he knew he would. He wanted more time with her before everything that was going on between them vanished because after-all, it was his life and happy endings didn't exist for a guy like him.

He softly bit her bottom lip before he pushed himself up onto his elbows. He didn't think he would ever grow tired of seeing her lips after his had ravished them.

She was still gripping his shirt. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down the storm that was going through his body. He glanced at her and brought a hand to push some strands of hair away from her face. "What's your favorite book?"

She titled her head in confusion, not understanding what he was getting at. He wasn't sure himself. "Why?"

He couldn't think of a better way to say it, so he said exactly what came into his head at her question. "I want to know everything about you."

Her cheeks turned rosy as she glanced down at her chest before looking up at him. Her lips swelled still, her eyes bright and her pale skin glowing. "A Tale of Two Cities." Her voice was a whisper. He soaked up in it. "What's yours?"

"Of Mice and Men." His voice was a whisper. He recalled reading the book to Octavia when she woke up from nightmares. It was the only book they had for a few years, he wasn't even sure where it came from.

They fell into silence again but he could feel her pulse beating rapidly beneath him. He closed his eyes briefly before he glanced down at her with a sad smile on his face. "I'm not a good guy, Clarke."

She took in his words but remained still beneath him. She brought her hand to his chest over his heart before bringing it up and cupping his face. "Seem pretty good to me."

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't. He would push her away. He would break her. He always broke everything.

Her brow scrunched up as she lowered her hands back onto the bed. He still hadn't moved from over top her. He was selfish.

"What is it?"

She turned her head at his question and bit her lip. "My mom is having this party tomorrow." She closed her eyes. "I want you to come." Her eyes were closed for a bit more before she slowly opened one and then another. She took in his face and glanced away. "Forget it. It-it was stupid to ask."

He tilted her head back toward hers. He wondered if she could feel his hand shaking. He would stick out like a sore thumb at one of those parties. He didn't even have a nice dress shirt except the one he wore to work. He looked at her again. Her teeth biting into her bottom lip. "I'll go."

The smile she gave him was enough.

…

The music was loud.

He yawned briefly as he followed the back of Jasper's head into the overcrowded bar. After dropping Clarke back at her house (with much kissing in-between), he had gone to work already a bit exhausted. However in order to calm his nerves and to get a bit loose, he decided to take up Jasper and Monty's idea of a good time.

The good time meant they would go to the hole in the wall bar a few blocks from his apartment.

His mind was swarming with expectations of how tomorrow would go down. He had found a navy blue dress shirt in the back of his closet and ironed it before he went to work. He pictured it hanging on the back of his door alongside a pair of his dress pants from work.

His nerves were on high. He needed a drink.

"Alright, alright, alright." Jasper said as he placed a few shots between them. He didn't even listen to his friend as he downed two. "Well, next round is on you, buddy."

He forced a smile. The liquid burned but not in a way that it usually did. He just needed to relax and turn his mind off.

The music was blaring off the walls and it was enough to consume him as he listened to Jasper try to explain his current story from work to an already tipsy Monty. He nodded his head to the music and sighed in content.

He wondered what Clarke was doing. He wondered if she was reading in her room or if she was helping her mother get ready for the party tomorrow.

God, that party was going to kill him.

He waved down the bartender and gestured for another round of shots. He was in the middle of his fourth shot when Monty punched him in the shoulder. He narrowed his eyes and turned toward him. "What the fuck, man?"

Monty nodded he head toward the center of the dance floor. He couldn't really tell at first but once he saw a glimpse of a red ribbon and the girl trying to get away from whoever was grabbing her, his eyes cleared and whatever buzz he had was gone. He pushed away from the bar and toward the massive amount of people.

He heard Jasper mumble something under his breath but follow him toward the dance floor. Music was blaring and he could see his sister turning her hand trying to get out of Atom's grip. He pushed people aside and quickly yanked her toward him.

"Bellamy." Her voice was rushed in relief but it was short lived as she took in the look on his face. "Bellamy, I'm alright."

He thought about Octavia being ignored as a child by their mother. He thought about Octavia coming home from school crying because her classmates had teased her for wearing his clothes when she quickly outgrew her own. He thought about Octavia coming home with marks on her arms from the guy before him.

She tugged on his arm again. He looked at her. At the red ribbon she so often wore since she was able to put her hair into a ponytail. Her innocence shined and the rage he felt in his chest only seemed to grow.

Octavia came before everything.

He glanced at Jasper and watched Jasper's jaw harden with a nod as he quickly pulled his sister behind him. Octavia was pleading with him. The music was loud. His vision was crystal clear.

He turned his full attention to Atom. His blood was pumping. His adrenaline was running. "Remember what I said last time I saw you?" He spit and watched Atom stand up straighter. "I said the next time you touch her, I'd kill you."

Octavia's voice swarmed around in his ears. "Bellamy, please."

He took a minute before he turned toward his sister. He watched her pleading face as she tried to move around Jasper and Monty. He let out a breath. Octavia was okay. She was safe. She wanted him to walk away. He just needed to walk away. He needed- Atom's knuckles connected to his jaw.

He lifted up his head quickly and moved without thinking. The people around him swarmed away as he caused Atom to fall to the floor with a loud thud. He didn't think. He didn't feel as he punched him in the face. His victory was short lived as he felt himself being thrown to the floor onto his back. He tried to move but the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

Atom straddled him and continued to hit his face. He felt his right eye starting to swell from the impact. Octavia was screaming.

He huffed and with whatever strength he could muster, tossed a punch into the side of Atom's head, causing him to loose balance and fall off him.

He let out a breath as all the sounds came rushing back into his ears. The music. The silence of the crowd. Octavia crying. The bartender yelling that he called the cops.

"We gotta go, man." He looked to see Jasper holding out his hand. He mustered whatever strength he had as he grasped Jasper's hand, allowing him to be tilted upward.

His body was aching but he reached for Octavia. Her eyes were wide and he knew she was about to have a panic attack. He gripped her arm lightly and tugged her toward the door. Blood was gushing out of his nose; his right eye was drooping already.

He tossed his keys to Jasper as he slowly maneuvered himself into the backseat. Octavia was silent as she climbed in next to him. Her hands were shaking. He gripped them in between his own.

She turned toward him. Her green eyes wide. Her red ribbon falling out of her hair. "You shouldn't have done that. You could've – you-."

He pulled her to him. "I'm alright." He clutched her head toward him as his repeated the words. It wasn't until the fifth time did he realize he wasn't alright.

He wasn't alright at all.

…

Octavia's face was scrunched up.

She held up her small compact mirror from where she sat on her bed, toward his face. He grimaced at his own reflection. He couldn't open his right eye and no matter how many cover-ups Octavia applied to his face, it still shined a deep purple.

"Is it outside? Maybe you can wear sunglasses."

He glared at her with his one eye. She laughed.

Once her laugh faded away she stared at him with a distant look on her face. She crossed her arms and scratched lightly at her nose. "You really like her."

He didn't answer or fix her statement. The word like seemed too vague. It seemed like a pointless phrase that didn't capture the volcanic eruption occurring inside of his chest at the mere mention of_ her_.

He leaned down and kissed Octavia's forehead as he told her he would call her later. She had mumbled before turning into her bed and wishing him to have a good time.

His stomach clenched when she turned toward the wall, already isolating herself.

He ran a hand through his hair as he headed out of Octavia's room. He paused in the kitchen to take a deep breath before he ventured out of the apartment.

Once he reached his car and picked the pair of sunglasses hanging against his visor. He pushed them onto his face, wincing as he did so.

He legs bounced as he drove. This was an awful idea. He didn't want anything to do with it but Clarke had asked him and the thought of letting her down overcame the thought of going.

He jumped in his seat as he drove, tapping his hands rapidly against the wheel. Once he pulled up toward the giant house, his heart pumped as loudly as it had when he punched Atom in the face.

Cars swarmed the road and her driveway was packed. He stared at the red door before mustering up whatever courage he had as he got out of his car and headed toward it. He smoothed out his dress shirt and pulled off his sunglasses with a groan as the sunlight reflected off his bruised eye. He knocked on the door.

There wasn't an answer. He tested the knob and opened it. Chatter rang throughout his ears.

He shut the door quickly behind him and felt his hands sweating at his side.

He glanced to his left and then his right. There wasn't anyone he knew. Then again, this wasn't really the crowd he intermingled with. He heard someone gasp as his face and he forced a smile as he stood awkwardly near the door.

"Excuse me but-." He turned and took in a face that looked so much like Clarke's. Her face was rounder and her skin wasn't as smooth but the resemblance was there. She took him in as he took her in. "This is a private party."

He bit his tongue.

"Good thing he was invited then." He turned and watched Clarke make her way up from the long hallway. Her hair was partially tucked behind her as she sported a white dress with a navy blue cardigan. He smiled at their resemblance as he glanced at his own navy blue shirt.

Clarke moved toward him and stood beside him as she addressed her mother. "Mom, this is Bellamy. Bellamy, mom." She didn't give her mother much room to talk before she tugged him down the hallway.

She pulled him into the kitchen. He saw familiar faces of people he worked with moving around the kitchen preparing food. He would have said something but his face was softly turned in her direction. Her delicate features were twisted in concern as she turned his face from side to side.

"What happened?"

He couldn't think of a time where Clarke Griffin had seen him without a bruise somewhere on his body. He shrugged as he shoved a hand into his pant pocket. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want her to think of him as that kind of guy.

"I'm alright." That phrase caused him to stiffen, just as it had when he said the words to Octavia merely hours ago. He grew nervous. This was an awful idea. "I should go."

Her hand reached around for his. "I want you to stay."

He glanced around the kitchen, receiving a few nods from his co-workers. He could have easily been one of them, hidden away from the masses in the large kitchen.

He was brought out of his thoughts when she pulled lightly on his head. A serious look on her face as she looked him in the eyes (well, eye). "Okay?"

He nodded and kept his hand wrapped around hers as she led him out of the kitchen. She mostly hid away from people, which was fine to him. She had introduced him to a few pairs of people as they passed by on the way outside. He saw all of these people from The Ark but they didn't know him at all and they sure didn't focus on anything Clarke said as they took in his bruised face with a sneer.

She pulled him into the backyard and trekked toward a pair standing off to the side, wrapped up in another. They untangled the closer they got. Clarke's hand tightened in his own. She turned toward him with a wide smile, a genuine smile. "Bellamy, this is my best friend, Wells." She gestured toward the brunette girl beside him. "And his girlfriend, Harper."

If Wells was shocked with his face, it didn't show. He smiled just as largely as Clarke as he offered him his hand. He shook it and stood aside as Clarke fell into conversation with them. He wanted to badly to add to their conversation but he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to embarrass Clarke, so he said nothing.

He was grateful that they didn't really move anywhere else for the next hour. Wells made him laugh and he surely made Clarke happy. It was a good sight to see.

He felt her hand tucked into his no matter how many stares they got. When the stares caused him to clench his jaw, her thumb would run over his hand, even as she continued talking to Wells.

It grounded him. It made him unwind his jaw.

It lasted until he turned his head and watched Abigail Griffin staring at him with a look of disapproval on her face. It was enough to make him feel worse than the bruises on his face did.

It was enough to make him wish he was someone else completely.

…

Clarke's lip touched his jaw.

She held an ice pack toward his swollen eye and twisted up her face when he grimaced at the impact. She kissed his jaw again.

The kitchen was empty now. The only notification that there had been workers there earlier was the amount of dishes drying in racks beside the sink. He traced the granite counters beneath his fingers as Clarke continued to ice his eye.

He wished he was good enough for her. He wished he understood when she spoke about Yale. He wished the world didn't turn their heads away when he stood next to her.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He gave her an apologetic smile as he reached for it. His sisters name lighting up the screen. He stepped aside and answered the call, something flying into the bit of his stomach.

She was crying into the phone. Apologizing for interrupting him but he barely could make it out. She kept crying. Speaking in words he didn't understand. His hands started to shake from holding the phone. She begged him to come home and he promised he would before she disconnected the call. He shoved his phone back into his pocket before he turned toward Clarke's concerned face. She always looked at him that way.

"I have to go." Her face nodded quickly in understanding. He wondered if she heard Octavia crying through the phone. "My sister – I just – I have to go."

She nodded again as she dropped the ice pack onto the counter. She quickly led him out of the kitchen and even quicker through her house. She walked toward his car with her arms crossed. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"No." His answer was quick and he watched something twist upon her face. He frowned. "I'm sorry it's just-."

She interrupted him. "I understand." She gestured for his phone and he frowned as he pulled it out. She quickly began typing her number into it. How strange was it that he knew the feeling of her skin and the lush of her lips but not her phone number. "Call me if you do."

He nodded as he placed his phone back into his pocket. He glanced at her and then back toward her house. He sighed but leaned his head down and connected his lips toward hers; the spark causing the panic in his body to rush away for a moment and also intensify behind belief. It was a weird feeling.

He pulled away and nodded before he jumped into his car. He watched her stand where he left her as he drove away.

He clenched the steering wheel and drove toward his apartment. His foot never leaving the gas petal.

He parked before his apartment and tore up the stairs. His pulse rushing in his ears. His eye tingling from pain.

He threw open the door and was welcomed with silence. He ran down the hallway and toward Octavia's room. The silence was loud. He pushed open her door and let out a breath as he took in her curled position on her bed.

He made his way toward her and mumbled her name. She lifted up her head and took in his face, even though it appeared she didn't see him at all. She threw herself onto him, crying into his neck as her body trembled, mumbling words he couldn't make out.

He shouldn't have left her alone.

He brought a hand toward her hair and smoothed it under his palm as he began to hum the song he always did.

When she came back to earth, she apologized repeatedly but he didn't hear it. He thought about the silence he felt when he entered the apartment. He thought about a million different scenarios that could have happened instead of this one. His body shook as he held her tighter.

He shouldn't have left. He shouldn't have been so distracted to notice how low she had gotten. He shouldn't have allowed himself to become so weak. A pair of blue eyes entered his mind but he pushed them away. He couldn't go there. She deserved better than this life he had. He wasn't better.

He was an angry guy that had too much baggage.

He decided then to be done with Clarke Griffin before she figured that out herself; leaving him like everyone else did.

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><p>[Don't hate me? Let me know what you think, good or bad and find me on Tumblr (mostly where I cry over Bellamy Blake):<strong> bellarkeymia<strong> !]


	8. VIII

[A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! I had a lot of computer problems but everything is good! This chapter is a lot of character development and reveals for Clarke. It also starts in my opinion, the beginning of Bellarke for this story. Let me know what you think about this chapter! You can also find me on Tumblr: bellarkeymia : I post fun stuff sometimes.]

**Music Inspired: Flicker / Lorde **

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><p>The house was quiet.<p>

She picked pieces of dried up frosting off of deserted cupcakes and relished in the sweet taste of chocolate and mint.

Her mother had avoided her all night long; giving her glances here and there that spoke volumes across rooms. She knew what those looks meant, she knew what would come from them.

She sighed and continued to bring frosting into her mouth.

Her lips tingled and it wasn't from the sweet chocolate swirling around on her tongue. She thought about how she had attached her lips to his own only hours ago. It made her delirious. It made her feel high. It made her feel.

She walked out of the kitchen and toward the staircase that headed upstairs. Her finger was still stuck in her mouth and her skin felt warm. She felt the plush carpet beneath her toes once she reached the second floor but instead of heading toward her room, her gaze locked on the cracked door at the end of the hall; her father's office.

She crossed her arms as she headed in the direction of the soft light. Once she reached the dark wood door, she traced it softly with her fingers before pushing it open.

She froze at the sight of two people embraced tightly together. She saw her mother's hair and someone else brushing it off her neck as they trailed their lips down it.

She must have made a noise because the figures broke apart like animals being spotted in the middle of the forest. Her mother's eyes were wide, the man with her looked sheepish. She tried to place his name but nothing came across her brain. All she could think about was how the man's lips kissed her mother's neck like they had a million times before.

She glanced at the desk pushed by up toward the large window overlooking the backyard. She thought about how she would often play outside and her father would wave at her from that desk. She thought about the fact that her terrible high school picture was still framed next to the computer that hasn't been turned on in months.

She thought about the fact that her father came up with all of his wonderful ideas in this room and how now it was being treated like he didn't even exist.

She felt sick.

"Clarke."

Her eyes flashed toward her mother's. A look of disbelief and shame was washed over her face. She wondered if hers looked the same.

She stared at her mother once more before she shook her head. The sick feeling making it's way up her throat.

Images of her father kissing her mother and images of her father telling her it would all be alright entered her mind. She could hear his voice clear as day in her ears. The voice that soothed her. The voice that whispered tales into her ears as he painted vivid pictures into her brain.

The voice that she missed most. The voice she dreamed about in late hours of the night.

She brought a hand toward her mouth as she ran away from the room and toward the bathroom. She quickly locked herself in and didn't bother turning the lights on as she emptied her barely full stomach.

When her heaving stopped, she heard soft murmuring and footsteps outside the door. She pushed herself up and against the lining of the tub. She let out a shaky breath and glanced around the completely darkened bathroom. She counted. She wasn't even sure how much time had passed when she reached two hundred and sixty-four.

There was a rattle at the doorknob and then a sigh. "Clarke, come out."

She took another deep breath before she pushed herself up off the floor. Her hands wove themselves into fists as she unlocked the door. Her pulse was racing. Her mother's features moved in surprise at the sight of her.

She stared at her mother. She wasn't sure what she felt more of, disbelief or pure unadulterated hatred. She thought the scenario over in her head. Maybe she was more like her mother than she realized; keeping the truth from another seemed to be something they were in a whirlwind about but constantly doing.

She had so many questions but she didn't feel like asking them. She didn't feel like looking at her mother at all.

Her mother's lip was pressed into a firm line; her brow was scrunched up like it always was when her mother tried to conquer a problem; conquer her. "I wanted to tell you."

She remained still for a few moments before she shook her head, a sarcastic laugh bubbling up in her throat. "Sure."

Her face-hardened. So did her mother's.

"It's not like you told be about your little project you were bringing around." Her mother crossed her arms. "You had no right bringing a boy like that here."

The mention of him caused a fire to stir up in her stomach and erupt like millions of stars in the sky. She thought about his bruised face and the looks they had gotten as she clutched his hand in the backyard. He had winced and lowered his head to look at the ground; all she could look at was him. He captivated her like nothing else. More than the pastels hidden in her desk drawer or words in the books she would lose herself in. Bellamy Blake consumed her unlike anyone else.

She thought about him and the words her mother had spoken seconds prior. Her chest ached and her hands shook more as they remained clenched at her side. "Why? Because he makes me happy?" Her voice rose. "Because he makes me feel something other than complete hatred for myself?"

The surprise of her tone showed up on her mother's face before it twisted up when it understood her words. "What?" Her voice was soft like it was when she heard the news that her husband had died.

She wondered if her mother thought about that moment as much as she did.

She remained still as she stood before her mother. She thought about the past year. She thought about being alone in her dorm room when everyone else was making memories that they would have forever, making friends during the best time of their lives. She thought about the last time she saw her father. She thought about his funeral. She thought about being trapped. She thought about heat. She thought about fire.

She started to move past her mother but was held in place by a firm grip on her arm. "What are you trying to say, Clarke?"

She yanked her arm away. "Doesn't matter."

Her mother's face fell again, her eyes gleaming softly. "Yes it does."

She didn't weaver, though. She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "No it doesn't." She took a breath. "It hasn't mattered in a long time." Her eyes narrowed. "No one is around. No need to pretend here, mom"

Her mother didn't say anything after that.

It didn't make her feel any better.

…

She clutched a book under her armpit as she climbed the rose tendrils flowing up the side of the house.

Her hair was whipping around her as she climbed higher. She blew it out of her face as she reached the window. She knocked twice and waited. There was silence before there was a sudden movement.

Her fingers were bleeding from the thorns.

Wells opened his window with a strange look on his face. His eyes were wide and his shirt was hastily thrown across his broad frame. It took Harper running into his nightstand for her to realize what she had interrupted.

Her face grew red as she clutched the rose tendrils harder. Blood was surely flowing down her palms by now. She felt embarrassed for ruining a moment and she felt slightly envious of it as well. "I should go."

"No!" Harper spoke up as she continued to jump into her jeans. "I was just-" She hopped a bit more into them, pushing the zipper up as fast as she could. "I was just leaving." Harper shared a look with Wells.

She wondered what that look was for. Harper's face still held a brief smile in understanding and Wells hands were still wrapped around his windowsill.

Wells moved away from the window and nodded for her to come in as he walked out of his room with Harper, who chirped a goodbye out quicker than anyone she had heard from before.

Wells room was different than hers. His walls were a light gray but you could barely tell from the movie posters and article clippings hanging from them. She placed the book under her arm onto his desk as she took in the piles of books already there with a post-it reading her name in his chicken-scratch handwriting on top. She ran her finger across them as she stared at a photo of herself next to his computer.

It was take the summer after their junior year in high school. Her smile was wide and her arms were thrown dramatically across Wells as they stood near the beach.

She took in her two-piece bathing suit that barely covered her perfect marble skin. Her hand instantly rubbed at her side where burn marks ran up and down her like a map. She looked at her face in the photo once more. Was this girl really that happy? Did this girl know that pain she would feel months later?

Her hand dropped as Wells door opened. She gave him a tight smile. "I'm sorry." Wells shrugged as he took a seat on his unmade bed. She stared at his sheets and felt the embarrassment work its way up her throat again. "Wells-."

"What book did you bring me?"

Wells was always good at taking her mind off of things. Whenever he could sense her discomfort or her lack of enthusiasm, he would crack a joke or he would hook his pinkie with hers to bring her back. She thought about Wells dressed in his finest black suit as they stood before her father's casket being lowered into the ground; his pinkie wrapped tightly around her own.

She pushed away her thoughts as she reached for the book she had placed onto his desk before handing it over to him. He flipped the book over and she watched his eyes take in the words, his eyebrows raised in interest.

He nodded his head and smiled up at her before he placed it onto his nightstand. She thought about how a barely dressed Harper had run into the dark wooded nightstand. Her cheeks grew red once more. "You really like her, huh?"

Wells thought the words over in his mind as he nodded slowly. "It's more than that, I think." He cleared his throat and stared up at her, his eyes wide and his dark skin radiating off the dimly lit walls. "I think I'm in love with her."

She thought about the first time she met Harper. She thought about the looks Wells gave her when she talked.

She thought about Bellamy.

"You think or you know?"

His voice didn't waver. "Know."

She nodded her head as she crossed over her arms. It was strange to think that a little over a year ago, it was just them. Just the two of them hiding in another's room away from the world. How they would read different books alongside another in complete silence, only to offer up quotes they liked as they reached them, reading them aloud with small smiles on their faces.

It was strange to think about the past compared to their future. It was strange to think that for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were on similar but completely different paths of their lives. They had experienced everything and anything together. Love made it different. Love made it hectic, frenzied even.

She let out a breath and sat down alongside him. Her eyes trained on the large Casablanca poster a few feet in front of her. "I got into a fight with my mom."

There was silence. Wells was waiting for her to continue.

"She's with someone." She glanced down at her lap. She shook her head. "I found them in dad's office. Like all the photos of him didn't exist. Like all his journals-." She stopped talking as she ran the moment in her mind once more. It was driving her insane. "How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" Wells voice was thick and strong. She imagined their voice waves following around them. Wells always had the right words and the right way to say them.

"Not miss your mom."

He ran his hand over the edge of his nightstand before he spoke. "It's different. I never really knew my mom." And he hadn't. His mother had died from cancer when he was two and a half. "I do miss her sometimes, though." He shrugged. "Especially when dad gets on my ass about changing majors. He's not a big fan of his son not going for political science."

There was more silence. She could hear the sky erupting above as they sat together. She wanted to say something to him, anything really but the words died along her throat. There are never enough words when it came to losing someone you love. An 'I'm sorry' was too generic but anything else seemed high unacceptable.

So, she reached her hand over and offered him her pinkie. The warmth of his wrapped around hers was enough to calm her and make her feel grounded.

They sat for a few minutes before Wells let go, moving toward his desk. He looked through the books piled up for her before sorting to the one in the middle. He ran his fingers over it before he handed it over to her without a word.

She ran her fingers over it before she moved toward the top of his bed. She rested her back against his headboard and opened the book. Wells took a spot next to her as he held the book she had brought over between his hands.

The silence was enough. The silence was everything.

…

She learned his name was Marcus Kane.

He was a lawyer and he was currently sitting across from her a dinner.

She glanced at her mother before staring back at her uneaten food. The last time she spoke to her mother was four days ago and even though she rarely spoke to her mother, the silence was loud enough to drive her insane.

She also hadn't heard a word from the one person she constantly thought about. (She was trying to not think about it.)

She picked up her fork and shoved a piece of chicken into her mouth before she glanced up and focused on the features of the man across from her.

His hair was a dark shade of brown and his eyes were the color of coffee with too much milk. His smile was charming though and it never seemed to leave his face as he spoke or listened to others talk. She would have found herself interested in him if she hadn't of caught him with her mother four days ago. The image still burned into her head.

"So, Clarke."

Her eyes grew wide as she realized the man she was staring at was addressing her. She made a strange enough noise that Finn, who was sitting two people away from her, looked at her questioningly.

Marcus's perfect eyebrow was lifted in question and a smile still danced on his features. It was actually starting to annoy her. "Your mom tells me you're pre-med."

She chewed the cold food over in her mouth before she nodded. She brought a napkin toward her lips and dabbed at the corner of it. She felt her mother's stare. "That's right." She coughed and gave him a tight smile.

"And at Yale. You must be quite the young woman."

She didn't know what to say in return so she smiled at him once again. She was happy when the conversation was taken off of her and onto something Henry Collins mumbled on about.

She glanced at the dining room doors and found herself aching for a sign of him. When she wasn't staring down at her plate, she was staring at swinging door that seemed to reveal everyone but the one person she wanted to see most.

She thought about Wells and Harper. She thought about love.

Her skin flamed at the thought of his lips on-top of hers. She felt like a junkie that couldn't get enough of the one thing they desired. He was exactly that though; something that made her so many things at once. It should have overwhelmed her but it didn't. It left her wanting more.

She chewed on her lip before she reached and threw her napkin on-top of her still full plate. She stood up abruptly.

Her mother finally spoke to her. "What are you doing?"

What was she doing? She excused herself quickly and walked out of the dining room, her heart hammering in her chest as she found herself breaking out into a run.

She laughed and smiled as she reached the front doors of The Ark. She didn't stop. Her ballet-covered toes sprang to life as they reached the pavement, not loosing spend or stride as she continued on her way.

The sky grew dark as she reached the bus spot. Her breath came out in harsh pants and her cardigan clung to her arms from the heat.

She tapped her feet impatiently on the pavement as she watched the bus pull up before her. She reached into her small bag for a few coins before she marched right on, almost screaming at the cool air against her skin.

She took a seat in the middle of the bus and counted in her head until she reached a block or so from his apartment. She had no idea what she was doing but her feet lead her anyway.

She thought about his lips on hers. She thought about his smile, the one she only received a handful of times. She thought about her lips kissing his jaw.

She moved faster as she got to his apartment building. She let out a breath as she made her way inside and starting climbing up the stairs. The music didn't reach her until she entered the hall that led toward his apartment, the door was wide open and it seemed to be exploding with people.

She glanced down at her appearance and felt more out of place than she had sitting at the table with her mother and her new boyfriend (she was happy she left her phone at home).

She reached up and pulled her hair down from it's clipping behind her head before she made her way into the masses. The music was loud and it caused goose-bumps to rise up on her skin. She crossed her arms as she waved in and out of people. She recognized a few faces but she only nodded in their direction as she passed them.

It was after someone spilt beer on her shoe did she see him across the way, with someone else having their lips attached to his jaw. She thought about her mother tied up with Marcus Kane in her father's office. She thought about how her lips had done that only days ago.

She stared at him with a strange taste in her mouth. His arm was loosely wrapped around a slender girl's waist; he took a long chug from the drink in his hand before he looked at her.

She tried to place the moment where she had messed up. Where she had misread the lines.

She couldn't think of anything. She thought about his lips upon hers, she thought about their bodies tangled together in his bed as the morning came around. She thought about the words he had said: _You scare the hell out of me, Clarke._

She compared how gentle he was with her to how tightly he was now clutching the red cup in his hand, pushing the girl attached to him away.

_You scare the hell out of me, Clarke._

He let out a breath and stared at her with a look that didn't fit right on his face. His eyes were so dark.

She didn't see him blink as he stared at her. She wondered what it was he saw or what it was he wished he didn't see. Did he see her sweat covered arms from basically running over? Did he see the look of complete confusion on her face?

She crossed her cardigan-covered arms and tried to think of something to say but nothing came to her. Her lips parted slightly and she felt her eyes well up. She tried to read his face and for a few seconds it looked like he was about to apologize.

He looked at her then toward the ground. When he glanced back up at her moments later (even though it felt like hours), his demeanor seemed darker, his face was colder and his eyes didn't move away from hers. "What are you doing here, princess?"

She felt herself break under his gaze. Words still weren't coming to her mind. Who was that girl? Was that all she was, some girl?

She was in a room with maybe fifty people and she never felt more alone. She started to grow anxious. She needed to leave. She couldn't breathe.

She glanced at him, at the person she didn't realize could make her feel just as small and little like everyone in her life could. She felt so stupid. She felt like nothing and everything at the same time.

He looked at her with that strange look again, staring at her to talk but she couldn't. The words in her head didn't make sense. They were all there but splattered around in circles not forming a single phrase.

She shook her head and started to turn around when she felt him clutch her arm. She looked at his face and saw the concern etched upon it with the anger of stopping her alongside it. "What are you-."

She cut him off. "I wanted to see you." Her voice was strong, which surprised her but at the same time only fueled her more. She pulled her arm away. "But I guess I was wrong before." He looked at her in question. "Wrong about you." She shook her head. The words still not making sense inside of her.

His gaze dropped toward the ground for a split second before he looked back at her, his eyes wide like a wild animal about to attack its prey. "Then what are you still doing here?"

It was one of those moments where a loud room goes quiet. She heard her heart beating. She heard her lungs quickening. She stared at him once more before she turned around and started to push her way through the throngs of people. She wanted him to say something but nothing came.

He didn't call for her. He didn't chase her down the stairs as she walked away.

Her hands shook at her sides as she thought about how she let herself get so attached to someone in such a short amount of time. What was it good for? It made her weak. It made people leave her.

She let herself cry until she reached the bus stop. She glanced back the way she came in hopes of his face but the streets remained empty. She wiped under her eyes as the bus pulled up. She climbed onto the bus and took a spot in the back and stared out the window and counted in her head until the pain stopped.

When she reached four-hundred and sixty-seven she realized it didn't stop the pain at all.


	9. IX

[A/N: Well here is the next chapter! It's not as long as the past few chapters have been but it's mostly a filler for the next chapter (if that makes sense). On another note, you guys are amazing! Honestly you all make my entire day when I see your comments/follows/favorites. It made me so giddy that you're enjoying my story as much as I am! Let me know what you think about this chapter (it can only go up from here, I promise). I also have another Non-AU story called **Here With Me **and it would mean a lot of you checked it out for me! You can also find me on Tumblr!: bellarkeymia]

**Music Inspired: Work Song / Hozier** (Massive Bellarke feels with this song, and all other Hozier songs at that.)

* * *

><p>A pair of sad blue eyes stared at him before his eyes opened.<p>

He jolted upright. His skin was on fire and his pulse was racing. He glanced to his left and saw the bed empty beside him. Not that he had expected anything else.

He brought a hand to his damp face and let out a panting breath as he fell back against the pillows. The sun was barely making its way into his room but it didn't make him feel much of anything. He still felt in the darkness.

He closed his eyes and saw her face. Her perfect face that looked at him so hopefully for that one split second. He hated how his heart raced once he saw her standing in his apartment. She was in one of those fancy dresses again and she never looked more out of place than she did standing in the middle of his living room.

Her eyes had locked with his and despite the excitement and the passion flowing through his veins, his first instinct was to get her away. So very far away from where he was. To protect her from the monster he knew he was.

He couldn't even remember the girl that he had his arm wrapped around because once _she _was in the room, nothing mattered. He couldn't live like that. He wasn't what she wanted and he knew it. And somewhere along the line she would too.

He had pushed her away and he almost chased after her because of the look she casted him. She looked so sad. She looked so disappointed.

It was better this way. Well, that's what he kept telling himself.

He opened his eyes and rubbed at them with the bottom of his palms before he sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. The ground was cold. He swam in the feeling.

He brought a hand through his hair as he made his way out of his bedroom with a yawn on his lips. He heard music playing softly from the kitchen as he made his way toward it. He felt a small smile make its way toward his face as he saw Octavia spin around as she cleaned up the kitchen.

He yawned once more before he picked up a spare garbage bag and started to throw cups into the bag. No matter what kind of night they had before, Octavia always cleaned up the next day right at the crack of dawn. At first it bothered him but when he asked her why she did it, she shrugged and she said, "I want our home to be nice".

He gathered a routine as he threw cup after cup into the garbage bag. He heard Octavia sigh behind him and he waited for it. Images of Octavia coming up to him the night before asking him if he was alright flashed before his eyes. He was the one usually asking her that.

"You can't run away from everything, Bellamy." Her voice was softer than usual but the harsh tone was still implied. He turned to her but her back was to him as she continued to throw plastic cups into a garbage bag.

"I'm not running away from anything." He didn't even believe the words coming out of his mouth and he didn't even need to see her to guess the look on her face.

He thought about hours earlier. How he was suddenly thinking about _her _and how she showed up out of nowhere. Her skin looked soft and the look on her face was one that had already started to haunt him, if his dreams were any recollection. He wanted so badly to follow her out but he didn't.

He wasn't worth the risk.

He knew it and she would know it soon enough. They always did. His father knew he wasn't worth anything. His mother dropped him at the drop of the hat. A girl like Clarke Griffin would drop him before the leaves changed color.

"The course of true love never did run smooth." He glanced at the pair of green eyes suddenly facing him. She offered a smile that he hadn't seen in years. "It's Sh-."

"Shakespeare. I know." She smiled at him again before she turned back around.

He thought about Octavia a few years back. She had to do a report on a writer and his helpless romantic sister picked Shakespeare. Weeks after, she was obsessed with his words, jotting them all over her room and covering every inch of her favorite journal. He wondered if their old house still held the faint words on the walls. It wondered if whoever had her old room felt the love covering the surfaces.

He looked at the back of Octavia's head. He wondered if that's when it all went wrong for her. How words made her think love was invincible. Part of him loved her for it. Part of him hated how it made her view the world so vulnerably, so weakly.

Her back was still toward him. "Love is worth the risk." She wasn't talking to him, or maybe she was. His mind flashed to years and years before this moment when his mother had muttered the same words as he held a newborn Octavia in his hands.

His mother didn't even glance at her. Her words bouncing around to calm her own mind. He had glanced down at Octavia as he felt his mother slip away from him. Away from them.

He shook his head and then focused back toward shoving the remaining plastic cups into the garbage bag. He thought about the words. He thought about _her._ He thought about his own life.

He was nothing. Love was nothing. Shakespeare didn't know shit. Love was a risk he wasn't willing to take. At least not anymore.

He tried to shake the feeling of _her _but she stuck with him all morning long.

…

There was grease covering the right side of his face.

He brought a white rag toward his cheek but it didn't help with anything. He still felt the grease sinking into his skin like a sort of tattoo.

He pushed himself out from under the car as he let out a breath. It wasn't even noon and he had already fixed and re-oiled seven cars. He was certain that the only thing that was keeping him in motion was the cup of crappy coffee he had on his drive over.

He rubbed his hands on his jeans as he stood up. He made his way toward the hood of the car and was about to change the oil when he heard his name being called out. He narrowed his eyebrows as he saw his boss standing a few feet away gesturing toward his office. He let out a breath at the thought of a break.

He tossed his rag onto the ground as he made his way toward the poor excuse for an office.

"Sir?" He felt stupid uttering the words because his boss was only four years older than him. Nathan Miller. A hotshot basketball player that broke his knee at the peek of his career. Leaving him to drown in this town, just like everyone else.

"Shut the door."

His eyes grew wide at the demand but he found himself shutting the door behind him anyway. He stood awkwardly between the door and the makeshift desk Nathan was sitting behind. He felt the grease on his face even more when Nathan gestured for him to take a seat.

He waited a second and glared before he took a seat. The plastic chair rubbing into his back.

There were a few moments of silence before Nathan laced his fingers together and brought them across his desk. He noticed that his suit had it's own spots of grease gracing the sleeves.

"This has been a hard decision for me, Bellamy."

His eyes grew wide. He sat up straighter in his chair.

Nathan sat up as well, pushing his grease-covered sleeves up his arms. He coughed into his elbow before he offered him a sad smile. "I'm going to have to let you go."

The words didn't sink in until he replayed them in his mind. He heard them flow in and out about fifty times in a matter of ten seconds. He couldn't loose this job. He couldn't afford to loose this job. "I'm sorry, what?"

Nathan offered him a weak attempt of a smile. "With the budget cuts, I can't afford a staff of ten." He stared at him with wide eyes.

He thought about the times Octavia used to cry because she was so hungry. He thought about the hunger that used to fill his own stomach. He thought about the small apartment they could barely afford with Octavia's job and his two jobs. He wouldn't be able to afford it now.

He felt his anger building. He felt his pulse rushing.

He didn't act out on it, though. Even though various ideas of throwing Nathan onto the ground and smashing in his face occurred vividly. He only offered a nod and heard Nathan spit out things about paychecks and unemployment.

The words didn't register with him and he only came back into the conversation when Nathan stood and offered him his hand with a sad smile.

He wouldn't be able to afford anything.

He was becoming more and more of nothing.

The feeling of grease never left his face.

…

He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

He already tossed ideas around in his head the moment he drove away from the garage toward his apartment. He could pick up extra shifts at The Ark and apply for another job. He wouldn't make as much but he would make enough. Enough to keep Octavia full and able to go to classes in the Fall.

He pulled tightly onto his hair and let out a breath.

The door opened and he looked up to see his sister walk in with a grin on her face. It dropped once she saw him. Her eyebrows were pushed together slightly. Her face was the mirror image of his sometimes.

She dropped her purse onto the table as she crossed her arms and walked toward him. "Why are you home so early? Is everything okay?"

He thought about the past half-hour. He glanced at her. "Everything's fine." Everything wasn't fine but he couldn't tell her. He couldn't let the one person he knew he loved, down. He mumbled off a story about why he was home early and for a spilt second, he saw the disbelief on her face but then her eyes softened and she nodded before heading toward the kitchen.

She was talking about her day but he couldn't focus on her words. He could only think about what a let down he was.

"Bellamy?"

He looked up and saw the concerned look on her face. He tried to smile. "Sorry, what?"

She gave him a strange look before the hopeful grin made its way toward her face. "Can I borrow the car? I have a date tonight."

He stared at her for a moment. He thought about Atom. He thought about losing his job. He thought about losing _her._ "What?" His tone was clipped.

Her face still held a smile even though her eyes grew wide. Her arms hung strong by her sides as if she was preparing for battle. "I have a date and I'd like the car."

They didn't speak. They started to glare at another.

"Recall what happened last time you have a boyfriend, O?"

Her eyes hardened. Her fists curled into themselves as she looked at him. He thought it was the strongest she ever looked. "What's wrong with you?"

_I'm going to have to let you go_

He stood up. His hand pointing accusingly at her face. "What's wrong with me? What about what's wrong with you? I have to deal with whatever boyfriend you get because lets be honest, Octavia, you don't have the best taste." He dropped his hand. He took a deep breath. He glared.

Her eyes were wide but he could see the tears welding up. She still stood up tall. "Fuck you, Bellamy."

He couldn't stop. The fire in him only continued to grow. "If you could be stable for a fucking second we wouldn't have this problem."

"It's not like you have to deal with it, Bellamy."

"Yes I do!" His voice was loud. It seemed to bounce off the walls. "The day you were born I had to deal with it." He felt out of breath. "The day you were born my life fucking ended."

It was a low blow. He could feel it once he left his lips. Her shoulders slumped and her strong stature started to fade. He could only image everything going through her brain. He wanted to take it back but he couldn't.

He reached for her but she pushed away his arms.

His heart started to race as he watched her scramble off toward her room.

Leaving him alone with the words he spoke haunting him.

…

Whenever John Murphy was in town his life blurred together.

Mostly because he was in a constant state of alcohol. His skin felt on fire as he felt Murphy pat his back while offering him another drink.

He took it without hesitation as he did a quick cheer with Jasper and Monty.

He was happy that his mind was finally turning off, at least for a little bit. Octavia hadn't come out of her room all day. He had knocked countless times but she hadn't made a single noise.

The words he said burned in his mind. He needed another drink or maybe five.

When his life was clouded enough, he sat up to make his way outside for a quick breath. The cool North Carolina air hit his lungs quickly. He soaked in the sensation as he stood against the brick of the hole in the wall bar he was at.

His vision was going in and out but it didn't make him feel any better. He was a selfish coward. He was a poor excuse as a brother. He was a poor excuse for a human being.

He reached into his pocket and scrolled through his contacts to call Octavia when another name caused him to freeze. _Her_ name stood up clearly in his hazed mind. Without much of a thought he hit _her_ name and brought the phone to his ear.

There was ringing in his ear for what seemed like forever but suddenly a faint voice came onto the other line. "_Hello?"_

He soaked in the velvet sound of her voice. He imagined her holding her phone delicately toward her ear. He was silent so there was another greeting, this time not as tentative.

"I'm sorry."

He heard her take a breath. _"Bellamy?" _

The way she even spoke his name drove him wild. He closed his eyes and felt his heart racing quickly in his chest. He pulled the phone away from his ear and quickly disconnected the call. He brought his phone toward his forehead and held it there as he tried to calm down his racing heart. His racing mind.

He pushed himself off of the wall and headed back into the bar. The music hit his bones. His vision was starting to cloud again.

When he took his seat back he felt Murphy pat him on the back before he offered him another drink.

He drank it. And then another. And another.

When he looked up again, he saw the boy who caused his sister so much pain across the bar. He thought about the words he said to his sister. He thought about how much he hated himself. He closed his eyes for a brief second as he zoned out on his friends laughter beside him. He took a breath and pushed himself off of the bar as he made his way toward the other side. He could hear everyone calling out his name from behind him but he didn't stop.

He made his way to Atom and pulled him off his chair.

"What the fuck man?"

He couldn't think. He pushed his fist into Atom's stomach. He kept hitting him before he felt his back against the ground. He couldn't hear the screams from the bar around him.

All he hear was the words he shouted at his sister.

Then it all went black.

…

He woke up with a pounding feeling in his skull.

He glanced around the cell and cursed as he swung his legs across the side of the steel bed. He rubbed at his head and stood up.

He swayed softly and felt the stale taste of alcohol on his tongue. He brought a hand toward his face and felt dry blood flake off.

He was about to yell for someone when he saw a chubby police office waddle toward him and tell him his charges have been dropped.

He narrowed his eyebrows as he watched the cell door open. He waited a second before the office grew bored and waved him out with an annoyed expression. He glanced at the watch on his wrist (one he should probably give back to it's owner) and saw it was little after eight in the morning.

He walked down the narrow hallway and saw Octavia first. Then he saw _her. _Her hair was flowing around her and she was wearing and oversized pink sweatshirt. She stood out against the gray of the room. She stood out anywhere.

Octavia was chewing her nails before she looked up and noticed him. She looked relieved as she made her way toward him. She went to hug him but stopped herself. She stood up tall and crossed her arms. "I called Clarke." He nodded. "I couldn't – I couldn't afford to get you out myself." She spat the words out like he had spat them out to her the day before. She was implying the words he has spoken to her. He lowered his head. He felt pain enter his chest. "I'll be in the car."

He watched her go before he looked over at _her_. He felt sick to his stomach and he knew it wasn't because of the loss of blood or alcohol he was sure was still swimming around in his system. Her eyes weren't like they were the last time he saw her. The blue in her eyes seemed so much more vibrant.

He made he way toward her.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to apologize for what he did. He wanted to apologize for not being a better guy, for not being someone who deserves her. Instead he said, "I'll pay you back."

She looked down at the ground, not expecting the words he said, either. "It's alright."

Her skin was so soft. He wanted to run his finger across her cheek and then explore every inch of her that was beneath her sweater. He cursed himself for his thoughts. "No, it's not. I can't –." He paused. He thought about the first time he saw her. How she ran into his life, literally. He thought about the first time he touched her skin. He thought about the first time they kissed.

He wondered if that feeling would haunt him forever. It already was.

"I can't not pay you back, Clarke."

She nodded her perfect head and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She looked at him fully and he wished they were standing here. In a police station with him covered in dry blood and bruises and her with a lack of sleep etching her features.

"I should get going." Her voice mumbled as she twirled a pair of car keys around. She started to head out the way Octavia had when he called out her name. She spun around slowly with a look on her face that was a mixture of confusion and hopefulness.

"I-." He wanted so much to say but nothing came of the sort. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to say how beautiful she was. He wanted to tell her how fucked up he was. He wanted to tell her to turn around and never look back. He looked at her and let out a breath. "Thank you."

She nodded and turned back way from him. She waited a second before she quickly walked out.

He wanted to chase after her but he didn't. He couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to.


End file.
